


Mutual Consent

by astroenergy



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Hurt, Love/Hate, M/M, Rape in relationship, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 43
Words: 177,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astroenergy/pseuds/astroenergy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’m the only person in this city who doesn’t fear him. The only person who can give him what he wants -pain- without dreading the consequences. That’s the only thing that makes me special to this man. </p><p>The thought alone crushes me."</p><p>I absolutely hate writing summaries. I'll try, at some point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cheap

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Durarara series. All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator.

It’s one of those nights. 

 

His scent filling my nostrils, the sound of skin slapping on skin, the bed creaking underneath us, his obnoxious smirk taunting me. 

 

I hate these nights. 

 

And yet I crave for them. 

 

I feed off of them, cling on to the memory of these few hours we spend together to help me make it through long, meaningless days, weeks even, before I see him again. 

 

Before I _fuck_ him again. 

 

Because that’s all we do really. That’s as far as intimacy goes between us. 

 

His eyes glisten in the dark, street lights making his skin look even paler as I run my fingers over his shoulder blades and he chuckles. He turns his head to look at me and his expression is mocking me, those big black eyes - fiery, piercing right through me - seem to laugh at the lust I’m drowning in. 

 

_Fuck_ , he’s always so composed, so in control. Never hides his face in the sheets - no, he keeps his head to the side, resting on the back of his hands, so that I can see him, smirking like he always does - smirking as if he’s sitting at his desk with his back resting comfortably against his chair, smirking as if he can’t even feel my cock ramming inside him. 

 

I grab his hips and gradually tighten my grip until he clenches his fists in the sheets - the only sign that he is uncomfortable, as his face remains serene as ever. His skin is turning red where I’m holding him and just the thought of the pain I must be causing him sends a shiver down my spine… 

 

But I’m still nowhere near release. 

 

That’s what he always does. Teases me, taunts me, suffocates me in this sickening facade of his. He knocks on my door, strolls into my apartment like it belongs to him, takes his clothes off and lets them slip to the floor, without a word, without a smile, without so much as a friendly nod. This isn’t affection, it isn’t love, and there’s no reason for him to pretend. There’s no reason for him to care. 

 

I wish I had the strength to throw him out, just once. But I never do - _no, I **always** give in. _

 

_He_ never does. Never allows me to enjoy this. Never allows me to see _him_ enjoying it. 

 

He lies back and holds the mask up for as long as it takes me to reach a degrading, humiliating orgasm. Humiliating because I’m the only one enjoying this, degrading because he just lies back and smirks up at me, unperturbed by my thrusts, not giving me a single sign that he is as affected by this as I am, not a moan, not a whimper, not a seductive whisper of my name - his eyes wide open and mocking me through it all. I push him into all kinds of awkward positions, sifting his head in the most uncomfortable ways just so I can avoid his gaze, but the bastard always finds a way to turn those black eyes back to me, to frustrate me even further, to force me to fuck him all night long without ever finding release. 

 

“What’s the point fucking a beast, if the beast acts so docile?”

 

His voice drags me back from my thoughts, his lips wet with saliva.

 

“I can’t even feel your cock inside me!”

 

He’s lying, the dirty fucker! Sure, his mask is still intact, but his muscles are all tense, his ass is tightening around me, sucking me in, and there’s that vein popping out on his forehead, an unmistakable sign that he can feel me alright! 

 

“Stop holding back, Shizu-chan!”

 

He whispers it seductively and the pleading tone makes me shudder involuntarily. If I didn’t know him any better I’d say he _wants_ me to kill him. Wants me to shatter his bones under my grip, fuck him hard until he bleeds. 

 

He _does_ want me to hurt him. 

 

He knows I’d never forgive myself, spend the rest of my life feeling guilty, hating myself for the sake of my worst enemy, and god would he love that! He knows I understand this. Knows I’d never give him the satisfaction. This is the only reason why he keeps pushing me further and further. He knows I’ll always stop myself before I can actually harm him. 

 

Yet another reason why I hate him so much; it’s so easy for him to manipulate me. 

 

_Tonight, I’m not gonna go easy on you, Izaya. The nearly three weeks you kept me waiting to touch you again have taken their toll. If you want me to hurt you, then hurt you **I will**. _

 

With my left hand still holding on to his hip and the right one grabbing his shoulder I push him over the edge of the bed until his jaw is resting on the wooden floor and his ass is spread wide at the edge of the mattress in front of me. He gasps when I slip out of him, biting his lips a moment too late to muffle the sound. _So much for not feeling me at all!_ I spread his legs a bit further, bringing his ass to the same level as my throbbing cock and I take a minute to gaze into that marvelous hole, stretched open, wet, and twitching now that I’m not filling it, inviting me back in. I _hate_ this man, his malicious smirks and his sickening voice, everything he says and does makes my stomach turn, but that hole…I could bury myself inside him forever and I would never, _never_ , ask for anything else. 

 

I push my whole length inside him with a single, rough thrust, and the reaction it draws comes as an encouragement. He rolls his fists and brings one of them to his mouth, biting hard down on his knuckles. The muffled whimper that goes with it sounds like music in my ears! I keep that pace up, thrusting deep inside him, my balls slapping his with every move, and I marvel at the sight of his slim, pale body stretched out in front of me. 

 

He’s so bony I could easily count every bone in his body - if he ever actually let me _touch_ him. 

 

Touching is strictly prohibited. 

 

I can fuck him, suck him, lick his ass, stretch it wide open with my tongue, fingers, cock – but I am never to touch him, caress him, hold him, kiss him. These are all out of bounds. Not that I’d ever consciously attempt any of these things – _it’s the flea we’re talking about!_ – but I do get carried away occasionally. At least I used to. He’s walked out on me before – for something as silly and meaningless as a kiss on the back of his neck, or a stroke of his hair. Needless to say, _he_ is the one setting the rules here and he never bothers to let me in on them – like it’s some damn secret. So he just plays me the way he likes – and if I don’t conform to these unspoken, ever-changing rules, he just up and leaves, and I’m left longing for another touch. 

 

His rules seem to be rather lax tonight, though, which means I can lean down on him, lick the arch of his spine and bite down hard on the soft skin between his shoulder blades and not only does he not push me away and storm out of my bedroom, but he actually shudders and moans – such a delicious, breathy moan – all the while trying to muffle his voice, shoving his fingers inside his mouth. I watch him as I lie on his back, a thin line of saliva running down the side of his face as it rests on the floor, his tongue licking the fingers he’s already marked with ugly bites, his other hand reaching down to touch his own erection as he whispers “Shizu-chan…ngh...fuck me…harder!”. He doesn’t need to ask me twice, I lift myself off of him and back to the bed, grab hold of his hips again and start pounding hard inside him – harder with every thrust, keeping note of his muffled moans and gasps to make sure I don’t cross the line between pleasurable pain and permanent damage. 

 

I’ve come to realize that he actually enjoys pain - a bit too much for that matter. I’m always reluctant to hurt him, but I’m also well aware of the fact that the only times he’s ever had an orgasm himself, were when I crossed the line, pushed him further than I usually do, let my strength out just a bit more than what I consider to be safe. 

 

His breathing has become more erratic and his moaning has grown loud, even as he fists his hand inside his mouth, knuckles turning white. His skin is sweaty under my grip, the sound of skin on skin echoing in my head. I’m close, but I want him to come first, so I pound even harder, steadying his hips more forcefully and he screams as the euphoria makes all his muscles tense up, his ass tightening around my cock, before shooting his load on my floor and going instantly limp. He’s panting heavily, whimpering quietly as his fingers slide out of his mouth along with a delicious amount of saliva that I just want to drink from his mouth. It’s this image and my thoughts that drive me over the edge more than anything and I come in a couple more moves, filling him up with thick, hot cum, making him whimper loudly as I dig my fingers deep in his pale white skin. 

 

We never use condoms. He says he hates them – hates the smell, the texture, the feel of plastic inside him – just like he hates lubes, or my fingers stretching his ass before I fuck him. I’ve sometimes thought about taking him raw – _serves him right_ – but in the end I always use spit and push a finger or two inside him before he glares at me and threatens to leave. He says he _always_ uses condoms with _everyone else_ , and perhaps I’m an idiot, but I believe him. I don’t know what makes me so special; I don’t care really, just as long as I get to spend these nights with him. 

 

I pull out of him and just watch as my cum leaks out of his ass; it’s a memory I want to carve in my head, to keep me company until he honors me with his presence once again – in a week or two, perhaps even longer. I drag my fingers through his hair in what could easily be mistaken for a very affectionate gesture before I clench my fist in it and drag him back up on the bed. He gasps, twists his body to escape my grip but I don’t let go so he reaches back and grabs hold of my hand instead, the one buried in the base of his hair, to shift his weight back up. I throw him down on the mattress and force myself out of it, fighting the urge to lie on top of him, kiss him, explore every nook and curve of his body with my lips and tongue. 

 

_I make myself sick_. Fucking him is one thing, craving for his body the way I do, is another. 

 

I get up and blindly search for my trousers. His clothes are neatly piled on the floor by the bed, mine scattered all over the place. Serves as a reminder of the fact that there’s never any talking or foreplay involved, I am never allowed to undress him myself, taking in every little detail, letting the desire build up touch after touch. No, once again he just strolled all the way into my bedroom, stood by my bed while taking off every piece of clothing one after another – with deliberately slow and lazy movements – and letting it slip to the floor, without casting me a single look in the process. When fully naked, he jumped in the bed and only then did his eyes meet mine, inviting me in with a twisted half smirk. It’s always the same; I stand there watching him, thinking to myself, _god, how much I hate him!,_ but the moment he looks up at me my mind goes blank. My hunger takes over me. 

 

I find my pack of cigarettes and light one with my gaze still fixed on the slim form stretched out in my bed. I lean against the wall, by the window, to allow myself easy access to the ashtray on the window sill. Izaya’s still catching his breath, his chest heaving up and down, the sound of his ragged breath filling the room, his scent, mixed with sweat and cum, makes my mouth water. He keeps his eyes closed, his face is flushed, lips slightly parted to draw more air, his arms resting on his sides, his long fingers twitching every now and then, as if there are still waves of pleasure passing through his body. The black of his hair is sticking on his sweaty forehead and I can almost feel the dampness of the sheets underneath his body. It’s rare for him to take this long to come down from his high, so no matter how badly he tries to pretend, he probably wanted this as much as I did. 

 

By the time he flutters his eyes open to look at me I’m already half way through my second cigarette. He sits up, very slowly, supporting his weight on his elbows, and takes a few moments to gather the strength to lift his back all the way off the bed and sit up straight. I put my cigarette out and watch him for a moment. 

 

“You don’t have to go, you know”. 

 

He stares at me, rather dazed, and I silently curse myself – fuck this half-assed approach, like I don’t really care what he does, like I’m just being nice for his sake.

 

“Stay the night”. 

 

The tone comes half indifferent half pleading, and he chuckles, the malicious expression he usually wears returning to his face.

 

“Don’t sound so needy, Shizu-chan”.

 

He’s teasing me, but there’s something more there; it sounds like a reprimand, like I’ve breached the rules once again. Fuck it, if I’ve pissed him off already I might as well push his buttons even further - no matter what I do I am always the one losing this game.

 

“Do you always just up and leave as soon as you shoot your load?”

 

He seems rather amused by my question, even smiles at me mischievously.

 

“Do you really need to ask?”

 

_Yes, I do, you freak! I know what you do when you’re with me, what I need to know is whether you break the pattern with anyone else!_ I don’t mind him fucking around - he was never mine to begin with - but the thought of him sleeping in someone else’s bed, in their arms, makes me sick. If _I_ can’t hold him then no one will. 

 

He stares hard at me. He’s expecting an answer, an explanation. Funny how he sometimes fails to read the simplest things in me.

 

“When you’re fucking others”, I growl and his face tightens involuntarily. He hates that I can speak about this like it means nothing to me. It’s obvious that he wants me to be possessive of his body, perhaps he thinks it would be easier to crush me that way. Little does he know.

 

“Feeling used, beast?”

 

His words are dripping poison. His face looks serious, his expression nasty and challenging. I don’t reply, I just watch him. He holds my gaze for a few long moments before he jumps out of bed and starts putting his clothes on, clearly irritated. Whenever he reaches an orgasm, he always has a snappy comeback. Like he can’t stand the thought that I was the source of his pleasure, like he can’t stand to be in the same room with me, breathe the same air with me. 

 

“I like sleeping in my bed”, he mutters as he slips his coat on, the last piece of garment standing between this world and reality – now that he’s fully clothed he’ll just disappear without a word.

 

“How many?” 

 

It’s a pitiful attempt, but I might as well try. There’s nothing left to lose anyway, my self-respect has long gone out the window along with any hint of common sense.

 

“How many _what_?” 

 

His tone is challenging. I’m walking into dangerous territory, but I’m not backing off now.

 

“How many do you fuck? Let’s say…per week?”

 

His expression grows darker as he takes a step forward me, hands in his pockets.

 

“I don’t know Shizu-chan, it depends”, he purrs, his breath warm and teasing against my naked skin.

 

“On what?” – _fuck_ , even when he looks at me like that, with this nasty expression, dark and blood thirsty, his breath against my skin sends shivers down my spine.

 

“On the week”, he raises his eyebrows innocently, moving even closer so that the fur at the end of his sleeves brushes lightly against my naked groin as his hands are still resting in his pockets, causing my limp cock to twitch, 

 

“my…work requirements”, sure, the little bastard uses his body to extract information, I’m painfully aware of the fact – rumors have been going around for years now, but he’s not stupid enough to fuck anyone in this city, no, this is a tactic reserved only for foreign sources, businessmen, politicians, maybe even common criminals, visiting the city – he’s made me lick the cum of one of those sources off his mouth in the past, and like a good slave I did it, I even got off on it, 

 

“whether you’ve satisfied me enough”, he whispers this last one, tickling my jaw with his hot breath and I chuckle,

 

“No one can satisfy you, you’re one greedy whore!”

 

His eyes glow in the dark before narrowing into murderous slits, but I don’t give him the time to retort.

 

“Isn’t that just what you are? A greedy, _cheap_ whore?”

 

I deliberately draw the words, enjoying the anger that flares up in his eyes. 

 

“Whoring your ass out for a piece of information?”

 

He forces a short laugh but I can tell that all his muscles have tensed up, ready for a fight, the vein on his forehead popping out once again – an unmistakable sign, in and out of bed, that I’ve hit the right spot – and I can imagine his right hand clasping his switchblade in his pocket. 

 

He tilts his head to the side, leaning in closer so that he speaks his words on my lips, and catches me off guard with just how cruel he can be.

 

“ _I_ am not the cheap one here, Shizu-chan. I only sell my body for the right price. I don’t go whoring myself out to just anyone for a fake glimpse of affection”.

 

There’s no point in getting mad at him for speaking the truth, no matter how cruel it is, but after all I’ve been through with this man, he still knows how to pull my strings and effortlessly send me into a blind rage. Before I can stop myself, my hand is on his throat and I’m pushing him violently against the wall, seething. He’s smirking nonchalantly but his switchblade is already pressed against my throat, piercing lightly through the skin. I could crash his windpipe with no effort, but he’s faster than me, always has been, and he’d probably slit my throat before I did. He’d do it without even blinking. _Is that so, Izaya? Would my death bring you nothing but amusement? If you hate me so much, why, **why** do you let me fuck you? Why do you keep coming back?_ I think I know why, it’s simple really: I’m the only person in this city who doesn’t fear him. The only person who can give him what he wants -pain- without dreading the consequences. That’s the _only_ thing that makes me special to this man. 

 

The thought alone crushes me.

 

“Back. Off.”

 

He emphasizes his words with a poignant pause, like that could actually scare me - _don’t you know I see right through you? Don’t you know I can tell that you know I’m not afraid of you, never have been, never will be, no matter how much pain you cause me?_ He presses the blade a bit harder against my skin, drawing blood, and I loosen my grip on his throat.

 

“Next time you threaten me with a knife, I’ll shove it up your ass”, his eyes go wide in amusement, his familiar smirk returning to his face, “and then fuck you till you pass out”.

 

He chuckles and it’s honest amusement that tints his voice as he breathes lustfully,

 

“Is that a promise, Shizu-chan?”

 

And with that invitation, a challenge he knows I can never meet, he backs off the wall and walks backwards to the door, his switchblade still raised at eye level, pointing at me. My anger hasn’t died down yet, I’m still seething, his words still ringing in my ears, ripping right through me, but as I watch him move away from me something else, an entirely different feeling, takes hold of me: _regret_. I wish I had found the right words to make him stay, wish I had held back, let our sweaty contact last a bit longer _– I wish I could be a man worthy of his affection_. But no, that’s ridiculous. Perhaps I don’t deserve affection, but even if I did, _he_ wouldn’t be able to give it to me. Because he’s empty, dead inside. Or so I like to tell myself at times like this, struggling to block any fond memory I have of him – there aren’t that many, anyhow. It hurts less that way; blaming _him_ hurts less.

 

As he walks through the door and out of my bedroom, he takes a small, theatrical bow, dropping his switchblade back in his pocket, his eyes always fixed on mine, as he rolls the words in his mouth mockingly,

 

“It’s been a pleasure”.

 

And with that he turns on his heels and storms out of my apartment, leaving nothing but the soft click of the front door to fill the empty space where his scent still lingers. 

 

Until next time.


	2. The morning after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was at times when the beast truly lost it, hurting Izaya in unimaginable ways and volumes, that the informant thought he wouldn’t really mind if Shizuo killed him like that. And this thought had made him fear himself more than he had ever feared the beast of Ikebukuro.

When Namie walked into Orihara Izaya’s office that morning, she didn’t expect to find the man sitting at his desk with a cup of -cold- coffee in front of him. He was an early riser, undoubtedly – one of those people who didn’t seem to enjoy sleep very much – yet it was still surprising to find him there so early. He was usually gone by the time she made it to work and only returned to his apartment-office in the afternoon. Namie wasn’t surprised that he had better things to do in the morning than file papers and surf the internet.

 

It wasn’t just his presence that alarmed her, however, but also that weird feel about him, like something was off. He didn’t lift his head to look at her, didn’t greet her in his usual, theatrical way - in fact he didn’t acknowledge her presence at all, and the woman wondered whether he had even noticed her coming in. He was staring at his coffee, his right hand absentmindedly stroking the skin on his neck, and his gaze seemed hazy. She cleared her throat nervously and Izaya blinked a couple of times before turning to look at her, startled by her presence – proving Namie’s guess that he hadn’t seen or heard her coming in. His expression, soft and unguarded, hardened instantly and he forced a familiar smirk.

 

“About time!”

 

It wasn’t the informant’s stupid comment that made her roll her eyes as she walked over to the coffee counter, but the marks on his neck: finger marks turning into angry bruises.

 

“Would you like a fresh cup?”

 

The words were polite, but her tone was harsh - made Izaya jump at the sound of it. He shook his head quickly; he didn’t like drinking his coffee cold but the black liquid staring back at him from the cup on his desk served more as a reminder than an actual drink and he wasn’t going to let anyone touch it.

 

“You can do whatever you like in your free time, but I suggest you ask your friends to _not_ give you ugly marks on parts of your body that are not covered up by clothes”. He realized she was looking at his neck and his fingers tightened defensively around the bruising skin. He forced a mischievous smile as she went on: “This is hardly the image you should be promoting to your clients”.

 

“They’re _my_ clients Yagiri-san, and I’m paying _you_ to file all those papers piling up on your desk, _not_ to give me advice”.

 

It was a reprimand, no doubt, but he tried to make it sound playful so as to not give her the pleasure of sounding annoyed. He hated being told off.

 

She snorted disparagingly, took her coffee to her desk and started going through the files lying there. Izaya retreated back to his little private world, but her presence alone was making him feel uneasy. He didn’t feel comfortable giving in to his thoughts with Namie in the room; he had the paranoid feeling that if she so much as looked at him, she’d be able to read his mind like an open book. The thought made him shift in his chair uneasily, which only worsened the situation as she turned to look straight at him with indiscreet inquisitiveness. She stared hard at him for a few moments, like she was indeed reading something on his face, and he could do nothing but stare back at her, struggling to keep his mask of blissful indifference up and intact all that time. When she finally opened her mouth to speak, he felt exhausted.

 

“Why don’t you go get some rest, Orihara-san? You look like you haven’t slept all night”. She winced in disgust as she pondered on what must have kept her employer up all night and forced a fake, caring smile before she went on: “I have enough work here to keep me busy all day, so just…take it easy for today. You look exhausted”, and truly the man looked about to collapse on top of his desk.

 

Izaya disliked the familiarity in her tone, he found it almost insulting. He couldn’t deny the fact that he was indeed tired though; his eyes stung and his whole body hurt from the previous night. And as if Shizuo’s rough treatment hadn’t been enough, he’d been unable to stop his brain from working full speed for all the long hours he’d spent staring at his coffee after returning to his apartment. He hadn’t slept at all. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. He had been so aggravated leaving the beast’s miserable apartment block, that lying in bed hadn’t really presented itself as an option. He let his hand drop from where it’d been ghosting the brute’s violent grip on his throat all this time and sighed as he rose to his feet tiredly.

 

“I have to be somewhere”, a blatant lie, of course, “so just take care of all that”, he gestured to the pile of files on Namie’s desk, “and I’ll be back before you leave for the day”.

 

She didn’t bother nodding at him, she just preoccupied herself with her work and ignored the obnoxious man as he walked out of the office. His health and comfort were none of her concern.

 

 

***

 

The moment Izaya walked out of the building and into the city traffic, he regretted leaving the office. His whole body hurt and the cold morning atmosphere didn’t help at all. He took a few steps, trying to adjust to the screaming pain of his bruised skin and his worn out muscles, and then stood still, eyes shut, drawing a few deep breathes to clear his mind…

 

He frowned and tried again…

 

And again…

 

Apparently, clearing his mind was not an option. He’d have to carry that image with him all day long; the frustrating image of a look hiding a mixture of hurt, hatred, and what looked like incomprehensible regret, fixed on him as he did the one thing he ever felt comfortable with around the beast: walk away.

 

He shook his head, in a desperate attempt to break the image, and wondered what he should do with the rest of his day. He hated the idea of wandering around the city aimlessly and he wasn’t in the mood to go spying on people. He would love to return to his apartment, bury his head in his pillow and sleep until it all went away – the pain, the bruises, the memories – but he couldn’t face Namie again, he couldn’t face anyone he knew – _anyone who knew him_. So he sighed, shrugged, and started walking in a random direction.

 

He’d been walking for a while, concentrating on the pain every step caused him, when he came across a small coffee shop, bustling with people. He usually liked places where he could watch people without being noticed, but this wasn’t the reason why he was drawn to this place now. All this noise and activity made him feel safe – safe from his thoughts, as there was nothing and no one in this world Orihara Izaya was afraid of. He smiled at himself, walked in the café and chose a spot at the back, as far from the window – which would have been his usual preference – as the space allowed. He ordered black coffee and couldn’t help noticing the waitress’s large brown eyes when she brought him his order. He forced a polite smile but a shadow passed through the girl’s eyes as she fixed them on Izaya’s hands cupping the warm mug she had just left on the table in front of him. The informant followed her gaze only to realize that the fingers on his right hand carried visible bite marks – _his_ bite marks – and were slightly swollen. He looked back up at her, trying to look composed, but her eyes where now fixed on a spot a few inches below his; his bruised neck. He sighed, disgusted at himself, and she glanced up at him, nodding politely before walking away.

 

The relief of finally being left alone, of not being scrutinized by some stranger’s eyes, was immense, and Izaya buried his face in his hands, taking a few moments to calm himself. _Pathetic,_ his voice told him and he dropped his hands on his lap. The black liquid in the mug in front of him seemed to be mocking him, reminding him of the bruised skin under his clothes. Sitting in that wooden chair was beyond uncomfortable: it only intensified the throbbing pain in his hips - where his skin had turned a very dark shade of black - and his ass, that swollen hole that Shizuo was always so eager to abuse. _Shizuo._ There was a spot, a very sensitive piece of skin, between his shoulder blades, that stung badly, reminding him of the brute’s teeth dug deep, mercilessly. He could almost feel the man inside him. He hadn’t showered after returning to his place, he had wanted to keep the beast’s scent – that heavy, bitter scent of smoke – on his skin, to pretend that the man was still inside him, still spreading him wide with his large hands and his hard cock. And he _could_ feel him; he could feel him swell up inside him moments before feeling the spasms, before that hot sticky mess filled him up - he could hear Shizuo’s animalistic moan as he came inside the man he was supposed to hate the most.

 

It had all started as a game, a new manipulation technique. It was right after Izaya’s plot to start a new gang war had failed miserably, due to the ridiculous friendship of three adolescents. He had never felt so disappointed in himself. Izaya was not used to failing. He had spent long days in his office, silently mocked by Namie who enjoyed her employer’s failure way too much, searching for a way to turn the tables like he always did. The frustration was so intense, however, that it wouldn’t let him think straight. That’s when the idea first popped up in his head; messing with the blonde had always given him a sense of authority. Izaya was the only person in this city who could mess with Shizuo and walk away unharmed. That alone had always helped lift his morale – even if it always left him feeling unsatisfied. He considered it for a few days, but eventually dismissed the idea as he was in no mood for running away from the monster. He needed something more subtle; he didn’t like the idea of exposing his frustration to the whole city. He buried the thought at the back of his mind, but it refused to go away. After a week or so, he started looking into new techniques of manipulating, abusing, and crushing humans – the monster was still a human after all. It bothered him that his plot had failed due to such a perverted concept as that of love – be it romantic, or friendly love. He should have been able to predict it, should have been able to twist the feeling into something completely different, something more useful. But Izaya never understood love. As far as he was concerned, the feeling didn’t really exist, it was simply one of those pathetic excuses humans used to justify their irrational actions. How could he predict something he hardly understood?

 

***

 

When he left his apartment that night, almost three weeks after the idea of messing with the monster had originally presented itself to him, he had no intention of showing up at the blonde’s apartment. He was genuinely surprised when he found himself knocking on the beast’s door, and even more so when a strange feeling of exhilaration took hold of him the moment the door opened to reveal a half-asleep Shizuo in pajamas.

 

“Flea? What the -”

 

“Hello, Shizu-chan”, Izaya cut him off, enjoying the blonde’s bewilderment. The familiar nickname slapped the man in the face and he was instantly awake, clenching his fists menacingly.

 

Instead of turning to run for his life, the informant did something utterly incomprehensible – even to himself: he leaned in and brushed his lips tenderly against the blonde’s. Pulling away to look into the beast’s eyes he was surprised that he didn’t receive any punches, or flying objects, like he expected. Instead, the blonde was staring back at him, confused but at the same time relatively calm. Izaya smiled, relieved that this hadn’t backfired – yet –, sighed softly and took a step inside the tiny apartment, closing the door behind him to lean on it. The blonde was still watching him expectantly, like he needed an explanation – an explanation that Izaya couldn’t offer him, as he was in search of it himself.

 

“Let’s not fight tonight, shall we?”

 

His voice was soft and gentle, his guard was down; no smirks, no masks, no façade.

 

“What are you plotting, flea?”

 

Izaya chuckled. It served him right, to be doubted when he was in fact being honest for the first time in a long long time. It pained him somehow, but he wasn’t going to give up that easily. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to accomplish, but the game was on and he was going to win, no matter what. He let his head fall back, against the cold surface of the door and shut his eyes tiredly.

 

“Could you trust me for one night?”

 

“I wouldn’t trust you if my life depended on it!”

 

Shizuo’s voice was harsh and Izaya chuckled once again. He had never realized how much he enjoyed the blonde’s company. He opened his eyes, his head still resting against the door, and looked at him for a moment.

 

“Kiss me”.

 

Shizuo frowned.

 

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing-”

 

“Just kiss me…please”.

 

The blonde’s eyes widened in honest surprise at the sound of that last word, but he still didn’t move. Izaya watched him for a while, studying his expression, before shifting his weight to back off the wall and take two short steps towards him. This brought him in breathing distance from the beast, where he could smell the smoke on his skin, feel the other man’s warmth. He didn’t kiss him though, he wanted Shizuo to initiate their first kiss himself, so he just brushed his lips against the curve of the other man’s neck, enjoying the sigh that escaped his victim. Shizuo grabbed Izaya’s shoulders forcefully and pushed him slightly away, enough to gaze into the informant’s black eyes. The raven haired man returned the gaze, taking in every detail: the blonde’s flushed face, his pleading eyes, the yellow bangs falling on his forehead.

 

“If this is a game, I _will_ kill you”, his voice was hoarse but none the less serious. Izaya nodded slightly and before he could say a word their lips were pressed together, large, warm hands cupping his face tenderly. He parted his lips to let Shizuo’s tongue roam inside his mouth and even caressed it lustfully with his own. The informant knew for a fact that the blonde had never had a proper romantic relationship; he had always been scared of what he could do to his partner if he lost control of his strength – a fear not the least irrational. He could have given it a try – with a professional let’s say, but then again he would never have opted for such an impersonal contact, Izaya was certain - , but he never seemed particularly interested in anyone. However, the informant had found out that the blonde had in fact been involved with a couple of girls in the past, when he was still in school, but it never ended well; most people couldn’t handle the beast in him.

 

Izaya wasn’t like most people.

 

The informant himself had never had a proper romantic relationship either, but in his case that meant something completely different: he had had sex with a few people, for a variety of reasons, but he had never felt anything but discomfort. The release was alright, but it wasn’t enough to justify the disgust he had to put up with - being so close to someone, having their sweat, their saliva, their cum, mixed up with his. He had found out early on that he preferred men to women. He’d rather not have to put this into words, but he enjoyed being stripped of control, he enjoyed being treated roughly – if there was one thing that made sex worth the trouble, it wasn’t the momentary euphoria of release, it was the pain. He understood vaguely that this made him a masochist, but he wasn’t as simple as any human being and anyway, this was one of the rare occasions when he didn’t enjoy words very much.

 

The kiss left them both flushed and panting heavily with desire. They looked into each other’s eyes for a brief moment before throwing themselves back into it, more violently, more desperately than before. Izaya pressed his body against the blonde’s and brought his hands up to explore the man’s muscular back under his shirt. Shizuo moaned as the informant’s hands came in contact with his naked skin, and nibbled on his enemy’s lower lip, slowly moving down to his jaw, kissing and licking and sucking the pale skin. They were both hard already, grinding their hips against each other under their clothes. Izaya marveled at how raw, how animalistic, this was and moaned loudly as the blonde sunk his teeth in the tender skin around his collarbone, at the same time digging his fingers in the informant’s sides. Izaya grabbed a few yellow bangs and pulled the beast’s head up for another lustful kiss, pushing him back towards the couch he had noticed with the corner of his eye.

 

“Wait”, the blonde stopped him with an apologetic look on his face. Had he regretted it already? Or had Izaya done something wrong? “Not the couch”, his voice was hardly above a whisper, and there was something there that sounded like shame, and what was wrong with the couch, anyway? But the informant didn’t want to risk ruining everything for a stupid couch so he refrained from questioning the man and just stored the information in his mind for future reference, as he asked:

 

“Where is your bedroom?”, an unnecessary question as there weren’t that many rooms in the tiny apartment; just the living room they were currently standing at, a kitchen he could see through an open door right opposite him, and a corridor leading to a room in the back that had to be the bedroom. The other man’s cheeks were tinted by a warm shade of pink as he grabbed Izaya’s hand and led him to that room through the corridor. The lights were off, but there were no blinds on the window which meant the room was sufficiently lit by the street lights. Someone could easily see them through that window and it puzzled the informant that the blonde had not bothered to put up blinds, but that was just the kind of man Shizuo Heiwajima was: unpredictable and irrational. He turned around to look at that unpredictable man, who was standing by the door, watching him intently. What was he doing? Had it ever before crossed his mind, to be in this room, to do such a thing, with this monster standing in front of him? Had he perhaps planned this, in some dark corner of his mind? He couldn’t tell for sure, but he was overcome by lust and that in itself was surprising enough. He kicked his shoes off and let his coat slip to the floor before grabbing the bottom edge of his shirt to lift it off his head – when Shizuo spoke up again:

 

“Don’t!”

 

 _What now!_ Izaya struggled not to roll his eyes but couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong: did the blonde _not_ want this after all? After a really long pause, Shizuo walked up to him, slid his hands under the informant’s shirt and slowly lifted it off his head. The encounter excited Izaya more that he could have expected; the beast hadn’t even touched him and he was already panting heavily. It was rather embarrassing and he tried to shrug the feeling off by tugging at the other’s pajama top and commanding him to take it off. The beast obeyed. As Izaya moved to the unmade bed and lied down in the mattress, his gaze traveled around the blonde’s robust, naked body. He was a lean man, a bit taller than the informant, and one that could fit the description “handsome”, if only he wasn’t so short-tempered and indifferent as to the people around him. He was probably the strongest man in Ikebukuro – his only possible match being Simon – but he wasn’t particularly heavily built. Izaya liked that, it made the man look almost fragile, despite his supernatural strength – or maybe because of it. Like if he wasn’t careful, he might even break himself.

 

Shizuo hesitated, and it wasn’t until the informant held his hand out for him that he finally moved to the bed. The raven haired man dragged the hand he had held out for the beast through the latter’s hair, and kissed him lightly, encouraging him to go on. He would have loved to strip himself naked and jump the damned monster, but apparently that wasn’t what Shizuo wanted. And Izaya knew - even if he didn’t quite understand the nature or the rules of this game - that if he wanted to win, he’d have to indulge his enemy at least this once. So he let the beast unfasten his belt buckle with trembling hands, only to stop once again, his face turning an even darker shade of pink.

 

“Aah…I d-don’t have any condoms”, Izaya had to guess that last word as it was spoken in an impossibly low voice. Of course he didn’t, why would he? The informant didn’t carry any condoms with him, either; sex was a carefully planned strategy, therefore there was no reason to be carrying them around with him when he wasn’t planning on using this strategy on anyone. He thought about it for a moment; the truth was he hated condoms, their smell and texture made him physically sick. However, he hated the smell and texture of cum even worse – the few times that someone had made the mistake of shooting their load on his skin, he had gone truly mental. Needless to say, he had never let anyone fuck him without a condom; it wasn’t just disgusting, it was also dangerous. But then Shizuo was practically a virgin, so there was no real danger there. Even the feeling of disgust wasn’t truly there; Izaya was just reminding himself how disgusted he had been with other people. He pulled the blonde’s pajama bottoms off, shushing the man when he tried to protest and looked down on the swollen cock throbbing with desire. It didn’t look at all disgusting. He pushed the man down on the bed, run his fingers down the length of the man’s cock and licked the shiny precum off the tip inquisitively. To his surprise, the taste didn’t make him sick. He quickly took the rest of his clothes off, shuddering in the chill of the night, and straddled the beast, leaning over him so that their cocks were only just touching. The contact made both of them moan, eyes half-shut, and Shizuo raised his hands to the informants sides, sending a shiver down his spine. Izaya let his own hands explore the muscular chest underneath him, before leaning in to lick the beast’s collarbones, drawing a deep sigh from his enemy. With his tongue running across that broad chest, he reached down and grabbed both their cocks together, fisting his hand around them. The blonde moaned loudly, squeezing the informants pale skin where he was holding it hard enough to make the man whimper. Horror flashed in his eyes and he let go immediately, but Izaya caught his hands and pressed them hard against his body, with a knowing smile.

 

“It’s not _that_ easy to hurt me, Shizu-chan”.

 

The blonde reluctantly caressed the skin he had been holding on to, and the informant started slowly rubbing their cocks together. The sensation was incredible. It was something Izaya had never tried again with anyone, and just the thought that this hard rod rubbing against his erection was in fact his worst enemy’s cock drove him over the edge in no time. Luckily enough, it had the same effect on Shizuo, and they both came almost simultaneously, Izaya digging his fingers in the beast's chest – the beast himself, wary of his own strength, letting his hands drop to the sides where they wouldn’t be a threat to anyone.

 

The informant collapsed on the hard body underneath him, feeling his and the other man’s cum mix in a sticky mess, and sighed. This still wasn’t disgusting. He lifted his head to look at the blonde, and he thought he could read the realization _perhaps we didn’t need condoms after all,_ in those warm brown eyes. He couldn’t hide a mischievous smile as he leaned in to kiss the man passionately; release _wasn’t_ what he was after and the game had only just started. Shizuo responded to the kiss just as passionately, but Izaya broke away, rolling on the blonde’s side. He lied down on his back and stared up at the ceiling. The informant knew a lot of things about the beast, things that could serve as weapons in their never ending battle, and he was going through them in his mind, trying to find a proper explanation as to why he was enjoying this contact so much. The answer had to be somewhere among that information, it had to be something that would give him leverage. And just as a warm hand started caressing his shoulder, the answer revealed itself.

 

Shizuo had shifted to his side, watching the raven haired man intently. There was mistrust in his eyes, mixed with desire. But the desire was not simply lust. It was a desire to _trust_. Such a twisted image, Izaya thought to himself and gently squeezed the hand caressing his shoulder. The blonde interpreted this as consent and leaned in closer to plant a wet kiss on the skinny shoulder he was holding. Led on by Izaya’s soft smile, he went on to caress, kiss and suckle on the pale skin stretching against the informant’s chest and abdomen, sending waves of pleasure through the man’s body. They both started getting aroused again, as the naked skin on their chests, arms and legs started rubbing against each other, burning with want. Izaya cupped the blonde’s face in his hands and pulled him up close, so that he spoke his words in the man’s mouth, brushing their lips together with every word:

 

“Shizuo”,

 

he carefully chose to use the beast’s name rather than the nickname he was used to, calculating every single word, every single touch, to lead his victim to the trap awaiting him – his guard was up again, even though the beast hadn’t noticed any change, and he was done being honest (or so he told himself) - ,

 

“I want you”, he shuddered at how lewd his voice sounded, “I want to feel you inside me”, _and no, not a single word that came out of his mouth was sincere,_ he reassured himself, as Shizuo’s eyes went wide. He started to say something but Izaya cut him off.

 

“Fuck me”.

 

The blonde gulped – he obviously wanted this, but he was still hesitating. He opened his mouth to say something but no sound came out and it looked like he was struggling with himself. Ok, so Izaya had to humiliate himself even further. Fine. His reward, Shizuo’s head – or should he say _heart_ , instead – served up on a plate, would make it all worth it. He buried his right hand in the blonde’s hair, the other one sliding down the man’s back, and wrapped his left leg around the blonde’s waist, pulling him closer, so that their erections were pressing hard against each other. The beast moaned, shut his eyes for a moment, to take it all in, and then crushed his lips against Izaya’s, sliding his tongue inside the informant’s warm mouth. He was still not giving in to his enemy’s humiliating request though.

 

Just as Izaya was about to punch the idiot in the face for his stubbornness, Shizuo looked him in the eyes and asked timidly:

 

“You, um, heard what I said, right?”

 

The condoms, of course. Izaya put on his most impeccable mask of innocence as he whispered:

 

“I trust you”.

 

The look on the blonde’s face though read unmistakably “ _I don’t trust **you**_ ”, and the informant chuckled softly. If he wanted Shizuo to get on with this he’d have to be sincere – up to a point. He couldn’t show that he knew about his virginity – Shizuo hated being spied on – so he’d have to be honest about his own situation. He pushed the blonde away, sitting up. They were now both sitting up straight on the bed, opposite each other, with their faces flushed and their erect cocks screaming for some more contact. _What a ridiculous image_. Izaya drew a deep, unsteady breath, all the while telling himself that if he wanted to win the war, he might have to make a few retreats along the way.

 

“I’ve never done this before”, he blurted out. The blonde stared at him in disbelief and Izaya realized his mistake. “I don’t mean sex. I’ve had sex before…”, he paused for a moment wondering how he should phrase this. “I’ve never…wanted this before”, he could feel his face blushing and he let his gaze drop to his hands in his lap, so he could avoid those warm brown eyes doubting him. _Why was telling the truth so hard, dammit?!_ “I hate condoms”, that was easier to talk about. “They’re disgusting. But I still prefer them to having anyone…touch me so directly. I’d never let anyone fuck me without a condom, never. But,”, he was fidgeting, curling the sheet up in his fingers. He glanced up at Shizuo who was still staring at him in distrust and forced himself to hold that gaze, “it feels right with you”. The truth always sounded so much more ridiculous than any lie Izaya could ever come up with. They both remained silent for what felt like a really long time to the informant, and eventually he sighed, giving up – perhaps he had underestimated the beast after all. He started to get up and out of the bed but the blonde reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

 

“I…”, he hesitated for a moment, “I don’t trust you”. It wasn’t an accusation, but a realization – like he had been fighting with himself all this time. Izaya felt the words pierce right through his skin and he fought the sadness that took over him with a forced smile. He cupped the blonde’s face in his hands once again and gazed deep in his eyes – such an infatuating brown. So the game was over, and he had lost. He had failed, once again. Perhaps he’d lost his touch, perhaps he should get used to losing. It was good, for as long as it lasted.

 

“I don’t deserve your trust”. He had no idea why he said it, but it was true anyway. He was determined to leave - this was his last word, an acknowledgement of his opponent’s victory - as he wasn’t interested in fighting a battle that was already lost, but something cracked in the blonde’s expression at the sound of those words. He breathed his enemy’s name just once, before crushing Izaya in his arms, bringing their lips and tongues together for the umpteenth time that night. The informant had no idea what had just happened but the game was still on apparently, and the tongue caressing his felt amazing, so when the blonde pushed him down in the bed he didn’t resist at all. He just laid there, enjoying the hungry kisses devouring his body and staring viciously at the ceiling, just like he’d been doing when the perfect plan to crush the beast had popped up in his mind, minutes earlier; _affection_. That was all the blonde craved for: acceptance and affection. Not from anyone, though. He wouldn’t have accepted it from just anyone; he wasn’t a child anymore, he knew not to trust himself, he had learned the hard way that he didn’t deserve people’s affection. It had to be a man who didn’t fear or pity him. A man who had the power to fight him. It had to be Izaya.

 

***

 

“Would you like anything else?”

 

Izaya shook his head and looked up, to find the brown eyed waitress staring at him impatiently. From the way she looked at him, he could tell that she’d already asked that question a few times before the informant finally heard her.

 

“No, thank you”, he muttered and the girl walked away from him, clearly irritated. He looked down on his coffee which was still intact, cold, and always staring back at him. The faces at the tables around him had changed but he hadn’t noticed anyone coming in or leaving. _So much for being safe from his thoughts in a bustling place like this one_. He took a sip from his coffee and winced at the cold liquid going down his aching throat. That night, over a year ago, had been the first and last affectionate encounter between the two men. They made love and held each other until the morning light, breathing promises they both knew they could never keep, and when Shizuo’s alarm clock went off, they got up, got dressed and kissed passionately for a few long moments before leaving the apartment. Izaya had convinced himself that he had enjoyed the contact only because it was the opening scene in a brilliant plot to ruin his enemy and from then on he had planned every move with diligent animosity. He’d show up at the blonde’s place uninvited every once in a while and have sex with him in the most impersonal way; no kissing, no caressing, the blonde was never allowed to undress him – something he had seemed to enjoy in their first night together - and he always left as soon as the beast reached his orgasm. He had made it his goal to never let the blonde see him enjoying their encounters – most of the times he wouldn’t even reach an orgasm himself, preoccupying his mind with all kinds of random thoughts. He wasn’t going to let his enemy see him that vulnerable, ever again. He could tell that this hurt the beast, even though he couldn’t really understand why – why did it matter to him whether Izaya was enjoying the contact, as long as he was? Shizuo seemed to crave the gentle touches, the caresses, the passionate kisses. He had even tried a few of these things at first – monsters _are_ slow learners – and the informant had been repeatedly horrified by the warmth that seized his body every time the beast touched him so tenderly. He had hated himself for it, and never hesitated to break their contact and walk away the moment his enemy dared arise this kind of feelings in him.

 

The original plan was to crush the blonde with his infidelity – but much to his disappointment, Shizuo didn’t seem to care at all about who the informant was fucking. At first, he had felt helpless, but then he decided to just keep hurting the man in any way he could; if fucking him with a mask of indifference was enough to do the job, then he would do just that. It still bugged him though, the fact that he had once again failed to read this monster. He knew he was right about affection being the one thing the beast craved for, but he didn’t seem to understand just how this so-called affection worked; it was yet another feeling that Izaya hardly understood.

 

He got up, walked to the counter to pay for the coffee he hadn’t drunk and walked out into the street again. He was going home and Namie could stare at him as hard as she liked; he’d had enough of this ridiculous frustration. He had long stopped enjoying his late night encounters with the beast. Even though Shizuo still seemed to suffer every time they had sex, Izaya had started suffering himself. It wasn’t the kind of frustration he had always associated with sex: the feeling of being disgusted by both himself and his sex partner. It was something different, darker, something that kept him up at nights, something that drew him to the blonde’s apartment even though he knew he would end up broken and suffering. He’d always try to push the beast off his limits, and even though the beast’s strength was indeed scary and dangerous, he really did enjoy receiving pain from this monster. It was the only thing that could make his mind go blank and drive him over the edge: Shizuo’s crashing grip on his hips, his cock ramming inside him, bruising his prostate – pain was all he trusted in. It was at times when the beast truly lost it, hurting Izaya in unimaginable ways and volumes, that the informant thought he wouldn’t really mind if Shizuo killed him like that. And this thought had made him fear himself more than he had ever feared the beast of Ikebukuro.


	3. The missing piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Him and I are the same; like mirror images of each other. Half human, half monsters. He can’t help breaking people’s hearts any more than I can help breaking their bones.

I spend my days thinking about him. It’s pathetic, but true all the same. I think about him at work, focusing less and less on the stupid excuses people come up with in order to avoid paying their debts – which is probably a good thing, since it means I end up losing it less and less -, and I also think about him at home, every night, as I lie in my bed sleepless, going through every word, every look, every touch we’ve shared in the past year or so. Most of it is bad memories, but there are a few shinny moments in there, a few rare exceptions to the rule of abuse and suffering - like a seemingly honest smile, or his face glued to the bedroom window, eyes reflecting street lights like a child bewitched by the carnival, in a unique night of drunken cheerfulness (if somewhat hurtful in its overwhelming sincerity), or the expression on his face when he burns with pleasure. Or the memory of our first night together. 

 

I keep going back to that night, reliving it all as if I could somehow learn something from it, or even change the course of history by altering some meaningless detail. Only I wouldn’t change a thing about it. Still, I keep asking myself: _why did I let him in? Why did I not throw him out? What was that warmth that possessed me the moment he brushed his lips against mine?_ I remember it all, as if it happened just yesterday: the look on his face when I opened the door, like he was truly happy to see me, the way he leaned against the door with his eyes shut - so _calm_ -, the soft tone of his voice, the tenderness of his touch. I wanted what I saw in front of me; not the Izaya I knew, the treacherous, vicious informant, but the young man standing opposite me, warm, and kind, and… _beautiful_ \- yes, _so_ beautiful! Perhaps I was an idiot to give in to him so easily, to be carried away by something that could as well be a façade, a mask created especially for me - to trick me, to throw me in some calculated trap. 

 

I’d been alone for so long. I wanted it to be true. 

 

I was surprised to find that I wasn’t afraid of touching him; I wasn’t afraid that I would hurt him. The flea knows how to handle himself around me, how to escape my murderous rampages; surely he wouldn’t let me break him that easily. Not that I wasn’t mortified by his whimpering, always assuming the worse – _had I just given him a bruise? was this more painful than it was pleasurable?_ – but he wouldn’t let me get carried away by doubt, lost in self-loathing. On the contrary, he smiled, and laughed, and played with my fear, running my hands over the whole length of his body, pressing them hard against the most sensitive spots, wetting my fingers in his mouth and commanding me to pinch his nipples as he thrust back against me, leading me with stuttering, breathy commands – _harder, spank me, harder, HARDER!, bite me, pull my hair, HARDER!_ And when I got too rough, he groaned and pushed me away to roll on his side, bringing his knees to his chest, laughing frantically until his eyes watered – _when I said harder, I didn’t mean hard enough to kill me!,_ and, _imagine showing up at Shinra’s with a torn rectum!_ And I couldn’t really worry too much when he’s laughing his heart out, pulling on my hair and pecking on my lips. I know my life has been torture since then, but I still shudder at the thought of how close I got to letting him walk away before I could actually experience any of this – when he looked me in the eyes and told me it was different with me. It sounded too good to be true, and the way he said it - awkwardly folding the sheet underneath his fingers, blushing, fighting to hold my gaze as if it burned him – made it all the more honest, all the more pure. _It had to be a trap._ This was not the Izaya I knew.

 

I tried, I fought with myself, urging me to believe the words that could never fit the face I had learned to see as nothing but malevolent – but I couldn’t. A decade of bad memories, of fighting and hurting each other in any way possible – a decade of him destroying my life for no good reason – crushed my heart in doubt. There was a piece missing. There was something I couldn’t quite understand – _what was the root of this mutual hatred? And, taking this hatred as a given, why were we always so fatally drawn to each other?_ As he started to move from the bed, clearly disappointed by my reluctance, I realized there would never be enough time to process all this and I couldn’t stand the thought of being left alone again – so I just reached out and held him. I wanted to ask him not to go, I wanted to say _“screw it all, let’s be together even if it’s only for tonight”_ , but the words failed me. His eyes met mine and all I could tell him was I didn’t trust him – I _never_ did. And I knew by the sadness in his face, by the way he held _my_ face in his hands, that I had ruined it all, I had driven him away – until he opened his mouth and spoke those words:

 

_“I don’t deserve your trust”._

That’s when it hit me – hit me like a truck running me over in full speed as I carelessly dart into traffic chasing after what I could never catch: 

 

_Him and I are the same; like mirror images of each other. Half human, half monsters. He can’t help breaking people’s hearts any more than I can help breaking their bones._

I’ve spoken these words in my mind so many times in my life – _I don’t deserve people’s trust_. Not my parents’, not my classmates’, not my employers’, not the girls’ I’ve held in the past, desperately trying to love them, to make them love me back, not even my brother’s, the one person who’s always handed it to me without a second thought. Izaya _doesn’t_ deserve my trust, he’s right, but I don’t deserve _his_ either and that kind of makes us even, it equals out the deception, the hurt. The words he spoke so casually shattered my heart and then put all the pieces back together - like a puzzle that was assembled inaccurately to begin with, interlocking pieces falling in the wrong place to create a distorted image far from the desired one but still capable of standing on it’s own. A memory flashed before my eyes: the first time I saw him, before we were introduced by Shinra, before the first pieces fit together in the wrong manner:

 

_I’m walking through the gates of Raira Academy and as I look up I see him standing there, behind the window on the first floor. He’s just a boy but he still stands out: he’s not wearing a uniform, he’s dressed almost entirely in black, except for his blood-red v-neck, hands in his pockets, watching the rest of the students with an amused, if somewhat malevolent, smile on his face. So promiscuous. But then, that’s just the kind of man Izaya Orihara is: constantly defying the rules, but not really because he wants to prove a point, or even because he gets a kick out of it – simply because it would never cross his mind to conform to the rules anyone else sets out for him._

 

Could I tell all these things just by glancing up at him? Probably not, I must be applying future knowledge to the memory, but I can clearly remember one thing: I was captivated by that boy, by that dark figure looming down on everyone around me. 

 

_How could I ever hate this man?_ How could I ever hate myself so much as to condemn me in a life of loneliness, of bitterness and self-deception? I remember every girl I’ve held in my hands – they weren’t that many, anyway – and I cringe at the thought of how bad I had tried to convince myself that I could _want_ them, I could even _love_ them. I couldn’t, I never would have founded it in me, I had nothing to offer them and they had nothing I could ever want. What I needed, what I still need, was someone as damaged, as fucked up, as I am. It wasn’t just fear that prevented me from having a proper relationship, it was mistrust; I never trusted myself _with_ or _to_ anyone else. No one but this man. _He_ could hold me, heal me, heal along with me as we’d fill the emptiness in each other’s souls with pieces of our broken world. 

 

I believed all that. I was too eager, too desperate to believe. And as I look back at that night I know that I was carried away by the rush of the moment, fooled by my own need, my hunger, my naïve sentimentality. But I still think there was truth in it all. I refuse to believe that it was all a lie, that he played me, deceived me, fooled me for nothing more than a bit of fun. The person holding my face, looking deep in my eyes and breathing those words _had_ to be the real Orihara Izaya, the man under the mask, the boy who stole my heart all those years ago and tied my fate to his with nothing more than a half smirk through that window. I _hate_ what he’s made of himself. But I can’t help but love him, all the same. 

 

_Love him._

 

When did I find the strength in my heart to breathe this word, even if there’s no one around to hear it? I don’t care about the abuse. If I’m honest to myself, I have to admit at least that: I can take all the pain and humiliation in the world, just as long as I can see him, be in the same room with him, breath his expensive, spicy cologne, and lick the salty beads of sweat off his silky skin. I’ve never craved for anyone the way I crave for him. And despite everything he puts me through, I think there is a part of him that feels the same way for me. Only he’s too much of a coward to admit it. And I’m too much of a coward to force him. 


	4. In limbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew at that moment that this man would be his nemesis, his only matching opponent, his favorite toy for life – namely, until he squeezed and drained all life out of it.

For the next couple of weeks Izaya stayed home, refusing to meet any clients in person. Namie was a horrible woman but she was right about one thing: letting anyone see him in that condition was a bad idea. The dark marks on his skin would only make him look weak and vulnerable, and Tokyo’s most dreadful informant couldn’t really afford that. 

 

He occupied himself with work, taking up more simple chores than usual - cases that required nothing more than a bit of research which could easily be done online or over the phone – and scheming faster than he should if he truly cared about the success of his schemes - he refused to admit to himself that he didn’t. Days were much easier on him than nights; there was a steady influx of work and Namie’s watchful eye kept him concentrated in it - no matter how tedious. But the moment he was left alone, silence setting in his apartment, he found himself restless.

 

The feeling wasn’t new; he had been suffering a persistent case of insomnia for about a year now. At first, he would just turn and toss in his bed for hours, unable to relax - it was the exhilaration, he told himself, of finally having come up with the most brilliant scheme to destroy his enemy. As time went on and it became clear that his plan had failed though, his restlessness grew darker, almost vindictive. His mind was constantly occupied with images of his encounters with the beast, as if it wanted to force him to analyze the situation until he came up with a satisfying explanation as to what had gone wrong. He had no idea. It was a perfect plan; there was no flaw to it. Izaya gave the beast what he craved for through their brief encounters, only to take it back forcefully and throw it away at some filthy stranger, carelessly stomping on whatever Shizuo thought this relationship of theirs meant. And yet somehow, it had all failed miserably. If anything, the beast seemed to be more hurt by Izaya’s indifference than by his infidelity. Could it be that he had misunderstood the beast’s desires? The informant knew that all people craved for love - and when they said “love” they meant something along the lines of holding hands, drooling over each other like stupid dogs, talking nonsense for endless hours, spending meaningless, non-productive time at each other’s presence, and other gibberish like that - but he wasn’t interested in making the beast love him; beasts act on instinct, they do not love, they do not care, they just crave and lust and… and no one could ever love Izaya anyway, be it a beast or a human. He understood that all too well by now; he simply wasn’t weak enough and if that was what it took for people to love him (years of careful observation had convinced him that that was exactly what it took) then he would gladly live without it. He wouldn’t know what to do with it, anyway. Probably just twist it, break it, wipe his feet on it and throw it away with a disinterested shrug of his shoulders as he’d go looking for a new toy to entertain himself with. So he had given Shizuo something else instead, something even he could understand and appreciate: pleasure. The way he saw it, in the beast’s mind pleasure and affection had to be interconnected – if not one and the same thing. Like a dog wiggling its tale happily as it got its back rubbed; something basic that would satisfy his lower instincts and send his mind swimming in endorphins, forcing him to surrender to his enemy once and for all. He had spent a lifetime observing these stupid, predictable, boring little creatures – _his beloved humans_ – so how on earth could he ever get it wrong?

 

Analyzing the situation didn’t help at all. In the end he had entirely given up on trying to rest and instead he would just drag himself around all night, pacing up and down his spacious apartment, staring outside the window in his office, or even wandering around the streets for hours. It wasn’t that he had lost faith in himself though, or that he had grown tired of trying; he simply realized that he was safer awake than asleep. The nightmares – that’s how he interpreted the haunting sounds and images that kept coming back to him every time he dared shut his eyes – rendered long sleepless nights his best shot at sanity. He’d struggle to stay awake and alert, day and night, but would eventually end up dozing off in his couch, or in his chair with his head leaning against the hard surface of his desk, for a couple of hours every couple of days, exhausted, spent, only to wake up feeling a lot more tired than before, flustered and disorientated. The same terrifying images kept playing before his eyes like a twisted carousel of disgust; a set of large hands against his skin, yellow bangs falling over warm brown eyes, broad shoulders outlined by the soft fabric of worn out pajamas, tanned skin stretched against hard muscles, the curve of _his_ knees, lips slightly parted as they breathed his name… He’d always wake up breathless, a feverish, shaking mess, heart tied in a knot. That’s just how much he detested the brute. 

 

The nights following his last visit to the miserable rundown apartment in Ikebukuro had been even more ruthless – Izaya hadn’t thought it possible. He had been incapable of putting up with the torture, even for just a few hours thrice a week, so he’d pump his system with caffeine and occupy his mind with more and more work, hoping to get rid of sleep altogether. Instead, he’d found himself drifting off, falling in a deep abyss of numbness with his eyes wide open. He would have enjoyed the trance if it hadn’t been so full of Shizuo; his mind would back away, surrender in an unnerving loop of Shizuo’s words – _cheap, greedy, whore, cheap, cheapcheapcheap –_ echoing at the background of the familiar set of images. He soon started fearing that one day he’d be trapped in that black abyss, never to return again, alone, doused in madness.

 

The first two weeks, while his body was still recovering from his last encounter with the beast - bruises going from black to blue to purple as the traces of the night they’d spent together wore away - he’d often find himself examining his body in the bathroom mirror. He’d trace every mark with trembling fingers, attributing the tremble to his growing hatred for the man who had dared defile his body that way. Occasionally he would even get turned on pressing against those ugly dark patches of skin, anger burning in his chest at how easily he was affected by that enchanting pain – pain being the only acceptable excuse for his excitement. 

 

By the end of the second week, when the bruises on his skin were finally gone and he didn’t have to fear getting questioned about them, he had gone so far as to call Shinra and ask him for sleeping pills – he would put up with the nightmares if it meant he could preserve some semblance of sanity and keep the terrifying abyss away from him. His friend had lectured him over the phone, advising him against using chemicals to substitute for normal human behavior ( _all it took was a balanced program, really!_ ), but had eventually sent him a bottle with Celty. Izaya was a very busy man after all, and Shinra had always expected the stress that was so common in his line of work to catch up with him eventually. 

 

Even though she wasn’t the least worried about the informant’s health, Celty still felt a mild discomfort at the sight of the worn out man, dark circles under his eyes, his naturally pale complexion looking closer to the color of ash as he opened the door to his dimly lit apartment and took the bottle from her without a word. He didn’t have time for socializing; he was exhausted enough to naively hope in a good night’s sleep.

 

As soon as he flung the door closed with the small bottle in his hand, Izaya jumped in the shower, let the warm water sooth his heavy head, changed into a fresh set of soft pajamas, took two of the magic pills his friend had sent him, and lied in his bed, which hadn’t been used in quite some time. As he drifted away in sweet comforting sleep he smiled at himself, glad that his old classmate, the underground doctor, had proven useful once again…

 

Those had been the six most dreadful hours he had had to endure in - he couldn’t really tell how long. When he finally managed to defy the chemicals that were forcefully shutting down his brain and open his eyes, panting heavily and soaked in sweat in his king size bed, he threw the rest of the pills in the garbage and banged his head on the bathroom wall hard enough to break the images torturing his wretched mind. The pain had been sufficiently piercing to distract him for the next few hours as he laid still on the cold bathroom tiles, waiting for Namie to show up for work. _Let the darkness swallow me up,_ he kept telling himself, _please, just swallow me up._

 

***

 

It’s been a while since I last saw Kasuka – or even talked to him. He’s been busy lately, finishing off a film, soon to start filming another one, and he’s also doing a TV show. I get to hear and read about him all the time, see him on TV - but it’s not quite the same as seeing him in person, even if we hardly ever have anything to say to each other. He’s in Ikebukuro today, doing some shooting, and here I am, nervously waiting for his break so I can share a quiet half hour with him. It’s been too damn long and there’s still a lot of frustration between us – I still feel like shit for letting him down yet another time - but it looks like he’s forgiven me already, like he always does. His call was such a pleasant surprise, I accepted the invitation without a second thought, and thankfully Tom has never denied me a short break during the working hours, especially since I’ve never really asked for any proper time off. 

 

We sit at a café, his bodyguards discreetly situated in our periphery, and I light one cigarette after the other as he sips his coffee. Being with him is so easy; I can just sit back and stop worrying about everything, we can share our silence without feeling the awkward need to fill it with unnecessary words. After we’ve exchanged the few sentences we always do – _I watched your last film, How’s work, You’ve been busy lately, Do you need anything –_ I feel safe enough to drift away in my thoughts and count the days I haven’t seen Izaya. It’s now been three whole weeks. It’s not the longest he’s kept me lingering, but it’s long enough to hurt. It’s not just the unkempt desire; it’s mostly the frustration his absence causes me. Leads me to doubt not only him but even myself, makes me rethink the feelings I claim to have for him. How can I love him? How can I love him _and_ hate him at the same time? He’s a terrible man; no matter what I think I saw in him that first night, he’s still the person who’s deliberately fucked up my life so many times in the past, he’s the reason my brother and I have become strangers. From what I know, he’s led a few people to their death in the last couple of years and he still ruins lives faster than any of us, common humans, can rebuild them. And all the while he just sits back and watches, like it means nothing to him, just an entertaining show to pass his time. Not only am I hopeless enough to fall in love with him, but I’m also stupid enough to tell myself that it’s mutual, that he _gives a shit_ about me. I never learn, he’s right; I’m just like a stupid animal, incapable of rational thought, a slave to my lowest instincts… I’m so lost in my thoughts, I hardly hear Kasuka’s voice when he speaks up again, so I end up staring at him, cigarette caught awkwardly between my lips, eyes unfocused in total bewilderment – _why on earth am I thinking of the flea, when my little brother, whom I haven’t seen in ages, is sitting opposite me?_ If he’s hurt by my spacing out, he doesn’t show it – and I’m not the least surprised -, he just repeats his statement in a flat tone:

 

“You look different”.

 

It’s not really a question and there’s nothing in his expression indicating that he expects me to verify whether I have indeed changed and what brought this change about, but I know never to expect that much from him. It strikes me that he’s very much like Izaya in this respect; so mystically void of emotion… But no, my brother is nothing like Izaya, he’s a good person even if he doesn’t show emotion unless on camera and having signed a contract… Dammit… I ruffle my hair in resignation and let my gaze drift away along the traffic.

 

“There…there’s someone in my life”.

 

I haven’t told anyone about my encounters with the flea. I would have loved to tell Celty, it’s been eating me alive and talking to her has always helped sort things out - for a headless dullahan she’s a good listener – but I know she’d disapprove of them, she’d disapprove of even the healthiest and happiest relationship as long as it involved the informant. But even if she didn’t, the secret is not mine alone and I know for sure that Izaya wouldn’t want anyone to find out – especially not our common friends and acquaintances. But Kasuka is safe. I know he won’t ask for any more information than I’m willing to provide and he would never judge me – he hasn’t judged me for things far worse than falling in love with a hopeless sociopath. 

 

I can feel his eyes on me even though I’m not looking at him. He takes his time before he speaks again:

 

“Are you happy?”

 

Apart from the intonation, there’s nothing there; no concern, no nothing. I know he cares about me, even if he hardly ever shows it; he puts his trust in me and that’s more than I could ever ask. It strikes me that his statement – _you look different_ – does not necessarily have a positive meaning; perhaps I look worse than I used to, perhaps he’s actually worried. I look back at him, but as expected his expression tells me nothing about what he feels.

 

“It’s…complicated”.

 

“How so?”

 

I take a puff from my cigarette, inhaling the bitter smoke, and I let my gaze drift away once more. I don’t know how to phrase this without alarming him. Perhaps honesty is the best way to go, after all. I sigh as I fix my eyes on the table between us and answer his question very slowly:

 

“I… don’t think he _cares…_ about me… the way I care about him”.

 

He doesn’t reply for a long time and I have to look up and search his expression for some kind of clue as to whether he’s shocked that the person I’m talking about is in fact a man. If he is, he doesn’t show it. There’s no camera filming us, anyway. He just examines me carefully for a few more moments before he finally speaks.

 

“Perhaps you should just let him know how you feel”.

 

I try to block out any background noise, filter the sound of his voice as he says “ _him”_ to detect any sign of emotion in his deadpan tone. There’s nothing there. Yeah, perfectly emotionless - just like Izaya, only the flea prefers to wear his masks 24/7, regardless of whether there’s anyone watching. I bet he keeps his guard on even when he’s alone at home, even as he goes to sleep, lying in his bed, raven hair falling across his forehead, skinny arms folded under his pillow, thin, moist lips… _Damn…_ I shake my head to break the image and chuckle as I try to imagine the mayhem confessing my feelings to him would cause.

 

“He’d probably slice me open if I dared say anything nice to him”. I pause, wondering whether I’m actually wrong about that, and Kasuka waits silently for me to elaborate. He knows me too well, he can probably tell that there’s more and is giving me time to find the right words to express it. “He’s just not…like that, you know? He’s not like _anyone_ else, he doesn’t…appreciate the same things as anyone else”. I smile drifting away in nostalgia and from then on I’m talking to myself really rather than my brother. “It’s funny how I keep going back and realizing things about him that I could never have imagined. He’s… _different_ , is all, and I don’t want… I can’t, I just… I really _can’t_ … fuck up! Not again. I would never forgive myself if I did. I _need_ to find a way to make this work… and not just for me, but for him as well. He’s not as _strong_ as he pretends to be, not as… invincible-”

 

“Nii-san…”

 

I realize I’m rambling and I slouch over the table, feeling guilty for ruining my brother’s break. I put my cigarette out and wave the smoke away before mumbling “sorry”. He must know who I’m talking about by now, he can read me even better than the flea himself, but he still makes no comments. He just nods, eyes always fixed on mine. He remains silent for the last 5 minutes of his break, and as he takes the last sip from his coffee before standing up to return to his work, he tells me something only Kasuka could ever say to me:

 

“You deserve happiness nii-san”.

 

I’m a bit taken aback by his blunt declaration of faith and I laugh - at myself, at the situation, at the thought of finding happiness by Izaya’s side.

 

“I don’t know about that, Kasuka. But in our case, I guess we just deserve each other”, and if he was at all worried about me, I’m sure my stupid grin has reassured him that whatever change I have gone through, it was for the best.

 

***

 

It’d been five weeks and his torture wasn’t getting any better. He still couldn’t sleep without suffering horrible nightmares filled with images of the beast, he found it impossible to concentrate in his work when he was constantly feeling exhausted, and he could find nothing to entertain himself with. He’d frequent all kinds of chatrooms, typing away his fatigue all night long as he screwed with young girls’ minds; they were always the easiest targets. He had found one specific girl who was actually quite fun to mess with; a simple minded 15year-old who was convinced that nobody loved her and kept telling Nakura (Izaya) that there was no reason to live if no one did. Izaya had been tempted to agree with her that first night, but surely he could find better use for this innocent plaything, if only she would just entertain him until his body was finally purged of Shizuo’s poisonous venom and his mind was clear enough to give it some proper thought. She wasn’t in the chatroom that night though, and the informer felt rather betrayed. Perhaps she had been grounded for staying up late every night, or maybe she had just grown tired of waiting for someone to love her and had already fallen to her death from some roof – either way, he couldn’t care less.

 

He got up and paced silently around his office. It was late and the apartment was horribly quiet. He had always loved the quiet, he never found it unnerving, not even as a child, so why on earth did it upset him so much now? He shrugged his shoulders, almost as if he was trying to rearrange the bones in his body, and winced at the pain that went up his spine and attacked his brain. He was so tired he would gladly trade in his mind for a good night’s sleep. Every joint and muscle ached and what vexed him even worse was that despite all the pain, he was still burning with desire. His frequent visits to the beast meant his body had grown accustomed to the raw, vulgar pleasure of sexual intercourse and despite his mind’s best efforts to fight back the need, he craved for someone to touch him. He had resolved to never again give in to this madness though, and Izaya was not the kind of person to back down on his own word. His plan had failed and he had to face it. There was no point in allowing the beast to torture him like that anymore, he would just have to find another way to finish him off. He was certain that the only one suffering from this decision would be Shizuo – and he refused to admit that perhaps he was suffering himself, _if only on a purely physical level_. 

 

He grabbed his coat, a couple of the mobile phones lying on his desk and his keys, and dragged himself out of the apartment; he would surely benefit from some cold night breeze on his face. He walked around Shinjuku not paying attention to where he was headed as he held a long conversation with himself in his mind. There was a part of him that was constantly pestering him about giving up on his perfect plan to tame and then ruin the beast; the great Izaya Orihara, the _feared_ Izaya Orihara, never gave up, he never admitted defeat. Surely he could find a way to turn the tables in his favor, he didn’t have to throw away 14 months of hard work just because that damned idiot had proven much more unpredictable than Izaya could have expected. But he simply couldn’t find the strength to keep this game up anymore, he was wasting way too much energy on the beast, even when they weren’t together, even when he hadn’t seen him for five long weeks! It was ridiculous! The informant could not remember ever being so wound up about anyone in his life. No one could make his heart pound so frantically in his chest, he’d known that from the day Shinra introduced them, but it had never really meant the same thing as it did now. Izaya kept shunning the obvious implications of his torment; there was no way he could see himself as a common human being, predictable and stupid enough to fall prey to pure, animalistic desire. And he couldn’t even start to think that his feelings for the blonde could have changed; or far worse, that they had never been what he had assumed them to be. 

 

He could remember the first time he’d seen the blonde, at the Raira Academy Entrance Ceremony. He had no idea who he was at the time, but he had still caught his attention, with his sluggish posture and his bleached hair; such an interesting specimen. He’d heard his name by some random girl at school and had originally thought it was a female student the girl was talking about: _Shizu-chan._ The stupid nickname stuck with him ever since and when Shinra finally introduced them, the world closed in around them; Izaya couldn’t see anyone except for that tall figure with the yellow hair, he couldn’t hear anything except for the animalistic roar that escaped those lips as the blonde teen threw a punch in his direction – one that he easily dodged as he jumped out of the way drawing his knife and cutting the blonde’s shirt open, leaving a long gash on his beautifully tanned skin. He hadn’t had that much fun in ages! As Shizuo chased him around the city, bringing havoc in his way, Izaya laughed at the top of his lungs, as the thrill made the hair in the back of his neck rise and his heart pound so hard he thought the whole city could hear it. And when the truck hit the prematurely toned body and sent it flying across the street to drop like a thrown away doll, his heart skipped a few beats until the blonde groaned heavily and rolled on his back, spreading his arms and legs on the asphalt. He knew at that moment that this man would be his nemesis, his only matching opponent, his favorite toy for life – namely, until he squeezed and drained all life out of it. He’d paid the driver with a nonchalant smile and made his way to Shinra’s so he could tend to the minor injuries on his hands. And when a few minutes later Shizuo barged in through the door – no, actually tore the door off its hinges and came at him with it, Celty desperately trying to stop him before he ripped the whole place apart - Izaya couldn’t help but smile like he was seeing his favorite man alive. And in a way, he was. 

 

He’d been walking for some time, almost talking to himself, when he noticed a young man smiling at him. He had no idea where he was, but felt certain he had never seen the man before – more of a boy really, he could even be a student – and he couldn’t help wondering why he was so shamelessly looking straight at him with a knowing smile on his face. Thinking that perhaps it was someone who knew who Izaya was, maybe even someone who needed his services, he nodded at the boy trying to hide his irritation at being interrupted from his internal dialogue.  

 

“Would you like some company?”

 

Izaya stared at the man in disbelief. He was very young and rather common but there was no doubt as to what he was offering; he was a male prostitute. He didn’t fit his surroundings very well; not that there weren’t any prostitutes in that side of the city, only they were usually more sophisticated than this. He chuckled and that turned into a laugh which just kept escalating until his chest was shuddering violently, his knees quivering weakly while his eyes watered. The boy didn’t seem at all disheartened. When Izaya finally calmed down, he spoke up again.

 

“You look like you could use some company”.

 

The informant glared at him defiantly. “Insulting your potential clients, how does that work for business?”, he asked, lips twisted in a half smirk, his voice just a little bit strained.

 

“Hey, I didn’t mean to pry”, the boy was still smiling at him and there was something in that smug expression that felt unnervingly familiar.

 

“I don’t need anything”, Izaya started to leave but the boy was quite persistent.

 

“I’m very versatile, you know. I’m sure you could find some use for me!”

 

That earned him another glare and the informant couldn’t help but wonder whether the boy knew who his potential client was, after all. 

 

“Whatever it is that you’re selling”, he deliberately feigned ignorance, “I’m not buying”, but as he started to leave again the boy took a step towards him and in an infuriatingly daring tone suggested:

 

“Try me. If I can’t satisfy you, then don’t pay me”.

 

He found the boy annoying and as he examined him thoroughly, head to toe, he confirmed his original impression: he was too common, too mediocre, there was nothing interesting in his features or his posture - just an average boy, with brown hair and brown eyes, skinny and rather short.

 

“How old are you?”

 

The boy chuckled mischievously and Izaya again found that the smug expression on his face was almost embarrassing. 

 

“Old enough. I’m not underage, if that’s what worries you”.

 

The informant didn’t reply to the implied question; he wasn’t worried, just disinterested. But the boy had presented him with a challenge and the voice that kept echoing in his head – _no one can satisfy you, you’re one greedy whore –_ was daring him to accept it. Seeing him hesitate, the boy extended his hand; a small, bony palm with short fingers, heavy with a number of cheap rings. Izaya took it reluctantly and let the boy lead him in some dark alley where he was pushed against a wall. 

 

“What would you like then?”

 

The informant twisted his lips in a taunting smirk:

 

“Isn’t it part of the challenge to find out on your own?”

 

The boy chuckled, rather entertained by all this, and leaned in to kiss the older man. Izaya tilted his head to the side, but didn’t bother pushing him away; this was indication enough. His rival in this challenge wasn’t easily discouraged, so he slid his hands under the informant’s shirt instead and slowly massaged his sides. That didn’t seem to work either as the bony body jerked involuntarily to avoid his touch. The boy retrieved his hands and stood there silent for a moment, before grabbing his client’s shoulders and roughly turning him so he faced the wall. A sigh escaped his lips and the boy grinned at the man’s back, pleased with himself. With his face now pressed against the dirty wall, Izaya felt the skilled fingers unzip his fly and tug on his boxers. He was not aroused yet, although he could feel a light tingling in his groin, so the boy just rubbed his limp cock through the fabric to get him hard – which shouldn’t  take too long as he’d been craving for this touch a long long time now. While at it, he slid his other hand under the black v-neck and stroked the skin on the informant’s side and chest, before rubbing one of his nipples. The half erect cock swelled hungrily at the touch and Izaya bit down on his lower lip to muffle a moan; a sign of weakness as he saw it. As the fingers rubbing his nipple moved on to pinch it, his now fully hard cock was freed from the tight boxers, throbbing in the cool night breeze. The short fingers wrapped him tenderly before clenching in around him and starting to move up and down his length. Izaya shut his eyes closed and with his face against the cold cement he couldn’t escape the images that flashed before his eyes. He couldn’t tell for sure whether it was a memory or a dream, but he could see his face pressed against the window in Shizuo’s bedroom with the blonde hugging him tenderly from behind. He could not recollect a night when he had allowed the beast to touch him like that, but at that point his mind was melting away, turning into mush, and he couldn’t be sure about anything. All he knew was that the combination of the sensation of a hand pumping him and the thought of Shizuo holding him like that made him moan loudly. As the boy leaned in closer and started nibbling on the back of Izaya’s neck, pressing his body against the man’s back, the informant’s mind plummeted into the abyss again; a cold, wet darkness filled with the beast - the beast holding him, the beast kissing him, massaging the inside of his mouth with his tongue, running his fingers over his pale skin, holding tight on his hips, stretching him with his burning cock… He gasped and whimpered as he could almost feel Shizuo stretching his perky entrance, and the fist around his cock picked up the pace, making his whole body shudder. _Shizuo…Shizuo…Shiz…_ His mind was so consumed by the memories, he brought his right hand to his mouth, licking and sucking on his fingers, thinking that he was sucking on Shizuo’s, coating them with saliva for the blonde to stretch his ass open and lubricate it so he could pummel inside him. The memories were so intense, his body flinched to touches his skin was _not_ receiving. He was flung back to a night he couldn’t remember clearly, a night that felt more like a dream; his body stretched out on Shizuo’s single bed, the blonde looming over him, naked skin on skin, just touching… He could see his own lips moving but could not connect the image to any words, any sounds. Shizuo’s eyes - that warm brown color - shining in the dark as they smiled at Izaya. _Izaya -_ his name, spoken by the beast’s voice. _Shizuo. Shizuo, Shizuo, Shizuo –_ his mind was filled with that name and he started whispering the blonde’s nickname in between his moans and sighs,

 

“Shizu-chan… ahh… Shizu-chan, Shiz- nghhh… mmm, Sh-Shizu-chan…”

 

The boy kept pumping the informant’s erection, unperturbed by the wanton cries of the affectionate nickname he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t unusual for his clients to cry out their lover’s name.

 

Shizuo was sucking on his nipples, going from one to the other until they were both hard and sensitive to the touch, and in between his whimpering Izaya laughed. When he was finally satisfied with the red marks on the pale chest underneath him, the beast left a trail of bites and kisses on the pale abdomen as he went down on his lover. The informant gasped as he felt the warm, wet cave of the other’s mouth engulf his length. Strong hands were wrapped around his hips and his waist, holding him firmly down on the bed as he tried to twist his body, to thrust himself inside that addictive heat. If he looked down he could see brown hazy eyes pleading with him, wet lips devouring his length. The memory was broken abruptly and another image flashed before his eyes: his legs dangling over the blonde’s broad shoulders as the beast stretched him wide with his hard cock, pecking on his lips while he buried himself deep inside his ass. The sensation was so overwhelming he almost came crying out the beast’s name. He clawed his fingers in the cold surface of the wall, trying to catch his breath which was coming ragged and shallow, as the image in his mind changed once again. He was on top of the beast now, straddling him as he sat on the bed with his strong legs stretched out, Izaya comfortably positioned between them. The beast’s cock was buried deep inside him and the informant was riding him, his skinny arms wrapped around the strong neck, Shizuo nibbling on his ear, and he could almost hear his own voice as he giggled… He rocked his hips roughly, desperately, like it could never be enough no matter how deep inside him he could feel that thick, burning cock, and he could now hear the blonde’s moaning as well, as his hot breath tickled his ear. It was all too overwhelming; he could see and hear himself, moaning and whimpering and whispering his enemy’s name so wantonly, letting inarticulate cries of pleasure, crushing the other’s neck in his arms, and as the hand wrapped around his cock tightened its grip to force him over the edge, the orgasm finally hit him sending painful spasms over his whole body, blocking out the images in his tortured mind, filling him up with bright pleasure that numbed his aching joints and left him almost unconscious. Just as his cum sprayed over the wall his body was pressed against, he heard Shizuo’s voice ringing in his ears: _I don’t want money, power, fame, people’s love… I don’t care about any of it. I just want to hold you._ He gasped and choked on his own breath as his knees buckled underneath him, and he would have collapsed to the ground if the boy hadn’t held him sandwiched between the cold wall and his own warm body. 

 

He held him there quietly for the few minutes it took the informant to catch his breath and pull himself together. When he felt that he could support his own weight he pushed the boy gently off of him and turned around pulling his trousers on and zipping up his fly. He took his wallet out, not raising his eyes to look at the young man yet, and took a handful of notes which he extended to his rival, the winner of the game, with a shaking hand. He had never before paid for such services, but he knew the underworld too well and he was well aware of the fact that he was offering a lot more than the normal rate for something like this would be. He didn’t care, he’d pay millions to wash away the shame. The boy flashed a mocking grin and took some – but not all – of the notes Izaya was handing out to him.

 

“That’s more than enough!”, he shoved them in his pocket and took a couple of steps backwards before turning on his heels and disappearing into the night with a cheerful “See ya around!”.

 

Left alone and shaking against the cold breeze, Izaya made a note to himself to never wander around this part of the city at night again. He crawled out of the stinking alley and into the main street, leaned against a lamp post feeling his muscles quiver under his weight and lifted his eyes up to the sky. He wished he could see the stars, but the pollution let nothing but a purplish glaze shine high up, over the city. He could not remember Shizuo speaking those words, the ones that possessed him the moment of his orgasm. Yet he could somehow relate the sound of his voice, the sound of those words, with a shiny ocean of stars. Could he have dreamt about it? _No_ , why would he ever dream of the beast saying something like that to him? He closed his eyes and drew a long, deep breath. In the back of his tormented mind he silently wished he could breathe in bitter smoke instead of the cold air; he’d come to consider the heavy scent rather soothing.


	5. Starry night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man standing at his doorstep looked like Orihara Izaya, sounded like Orihara Izaya, but couldn’t be Orihara Izaya; he was smiling, hands propped on each side of the frame of the door, and he looked perfectly intoxicated – not just drunk with alcohol, but far gone with something else as well.

Six weeks.

42 long days.

1008 grueling hours of wanting him and not having him.

I’m at my limits.

I can’t take the torture anymore.

Is he going to break his own record?

There was a time, not long ago, when thinking about him made me feel better; kept me calm, gave me hope. The more I think about him now, the more _I hate him_. I bet he’s doing this on purpose. He hasn’t showed up, hasn’t called, hasn’t been around Ikebukuro; he’s nowhere to be seen. I pick up fights with strangers just because they looked at me or crossed me in the street. It’s eating me alive. _Screw him_. Screw him for teaching me to lust for him only to disappear from the face of the Earth. I bet he watches me; I bet he _secretly_ watches me burn for him and laughs at my misery.

Every night the same; I get back from work and I tell myself: _I won’t waste any more time or energy on him. I’ll have a shower, grab a bite, get some sleep, shake this feeling off and GET ON WITH MY LIFE_. I end up staring out the window for the umpteenth night in a row. I force myself to remember all the bad times; there’s an abundance of nasty memories I could reminisce for days on end, feeding my hatred, or whatever the hell it is that I feel for him. His heartless attitude; his sneers, his smirks, his cold hands –like a fucking snake- slapping mine away every time I try to touch his body with anything other than raging lust, his showing up uninvited, his disappearing without a word, his words that always drip of poison. _Screw him!_ He’s so fucking cold he could freeze the whole fucking universe! Cold like a corpse, dead inside; no wonder he’s so unresponsive during sex. And to think that I fool myself into believing that I love him! This vile, wretched man! _Screw him!_

I light a new cigarette with the burning end of the previous one and I inhale the black smoke hoping to kill all life in me; anything pure and good and honest. I can never _hate_ him enough. I think back before that cursed night, before he showed me that other side of him, back in the days when we’d fight every time we saw each other, back in the days when he’d constantly mess with me, sending gangs to pick fights with me, setting me up for crimes I had no involvement in, ruining my life in any and every possible way. That kind of torture was so much better than this one. I _want_ to hate him, I _do_ hate him, only it’s never quite enough. As I watch the city lights from my window a memory I’ve fought so hard to burry in the back of my mind, the memory of a starry night, comes rushing back to flood my senses with nothing but him; his voice, his scent, his taste, his pale complexion, his skin on mine, his breath on my lips…

I _want_ him.

***

The night Shizuo couldn’t help remembering, the night Izaya couldn’t help forgetting, was a warm summer night, at the beginning of last July. Izaya had obtained a very sensitive piece of information that evening; the kind that can bring down governments and render the man who possesses it the most powerful man in the whole of Japan. It was also meant to be the night he’d defy himself, tear down his own façade, wash away the doubts in the beast’s heart, and finally succeed in taming him for good. By the next morning he would remember none of it.

Shizuo was sleeping in his bed when he heard the knock on the door. He’d always been a heavy sleeper but that had changed the last couple of months; ever since the flea had shown up at his door late one night, the blonde had mystically turned into a very light sleeper. He’d wake up at the quietest sound thinking it was the flea knocking on his door - he’d never ring the bell, just knock and wait; Shizuo could not understand this, but he’d never bothered ask. He opened his eyes and kept still for a moment, wondering whether his mind was playing tricks on him; it had been less than a week since Izaya had last paid him a visit and it wasn’t like him to come back so soon. Then he heard the second knock and rushed to the door.

The man standing at his doorstep looked like Orihara Izaya, sounded like Orihara Izaya, but couldn’t be Orihara Izaya; he was smiling, hands propped on each side of the frame of the door, and he looked perfectly intoxicated – not just drunk with alcohol, but far gone with something else as well.

“Hello, Shizu-chan!”

Yeap, he was drunk. There was no way he would ever greet his enemy like that sober – Shizuo could remember the one and only time when the informant had stood at his door and spoken those words to him, but the tone was incomparably cheery, like that of a man who had no appreciation of the situation. Seeing that the blonde was just staring at him dumbstruck, Izaya pouted:

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Shizuo didn’t reply, he just moved aside speechless to let the informant in the apartment. The raven haired man strolled into the tiny living room, kicked his shoes off with a clumsiness that could never match his image and leisurely sunk in the left corner of the couch, settling like a cat, with his back arched, head propped on his knees as he brought them to his chest and clasped them in his arms. He shut his eyes and asked – a minute too late:

“Do you mind? Or am I so filthy I’ll ruin your precious little brother’s gift just by sitting in it?”

Shizuo felt he should be insulted, but the tone of the other man’s voice was so soft and honest – like he was truly wondering whether his presence alone could destroy something precious and dear to the blonde – that he simply couldn’t find it in him. Instead he walked up to the couch and sat at the other corner, examining the skinny figure carefully; he was wearing black as usual, just trousers (skinnier than usual) and a t-shirt as it was very warm, but he looked nicer, almost like he’d made an effort - even though Shizuo couldn’t detect any obvious changes in his appearance. He sniffed at his direction.

“Are you drunk?”

“I hate alcohol”, he kept his eyes shut.

“And yet you reek of it!”

The informant shrugged tiredly, still not opening his eyes.

“I have to indulge my sources, sometimes. At least, the most precious ones”, there was disgust in his voice mixed with resignation.

Shizuo kept silent for a few moments before the realization hit him:

“Hey, how did you know that my brother got me this couch?”

Izaya smirked, eyes still shut:

“I know more about you than you’d want me to!”

There was no doubt. It still pissed the hell out of the blonde though; he hated people spying on him - and by ‘people’ he meant this nosy, tactless bastard sitting in his couch.

“Do you love your brother, Shizu-chan?”

“Of course I do!”, Shizuo was a bit too fast to answer the question; Izaya was getting on his nerves, already.

“Why?”

“What the hell do you mean ‘why’?! _Because_ he’s my brother!” _What a dumb question! What kind of a man would ever ask anyone why they love their family?_

“That’s not much of an answer, you know”, Izaya fluttered his eyes open, but seeing that the blonde was already at the breaking point he adopted an even softer, almost condescending tone. “There must be some… _traits_ in particular that you appreciate in him. Something that… differentiates him from the rest, that makes him _unique_ to you”.

“Sure there is: he’s been in my life from the beginning and he’s never lost faith in me! I _trust_ him!”, Shizuo was exasperated, he resented having to voice something so self-evident and felt certain that the flea was just asking these questions in order to mock him. To his great surprise though, Izaya was looking at him thoughtfully.

“Hmm… Interesting”, he shut his eyes again and remained silent for some time. The blonde lit a cigarette, trying to simmer down his frustration, and looked the other way for the frail body half-lying in his couch was now irritating him.

“You haven’t seen him in a long long time”, it was not a question and that annoyed the bodyguard even further.

“ **You don’t fucking talk about my brother!** ”

Izaya’s eyes popped with surprise and after taking one look at the blonde – cigarette snapped in two between his fingers, eyes glistening with rage – he burst into laughter.

“You’re a funny man, Shizuo Heiwajima!” He flashed his most charming smile and marveled at the sudden change in the other man’s expression. “I don’t understand it, is all”, and with that he shut his eyes again and snuggled his legs like he was about to fall asleep.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing here?”, he almost shouted it, “’f you wanna sleep, you have a home of your own”, he didn’t really want him to leave, but he wasn’t going to let him sleep in his couch like that either; without an explanation as to why he’d shown up at his door, or why he was drunk when he’d never even have a drop of alcohol under normal circumstances.

Izaya furrowed his brow and twitched, but a moment later he was reenergized by enthusiasm, like he had just remembered something incredibly interesting, eyes wide open, fingers digging in the soft fabric of his trousers as he leaned in closer to the blonde:

“I found out something quite astonishing tonight! No, not tonight, I knew all along – they couldn’t hide it from _me_ \- but I _confirmed_ it tonight – I’ll ruin it all if I can’t get things my way! - I’ll have the proof in my hands any day now!”, he wasn’t making any sense, but the way his eyes danced all over the room Shizuo knew not to expect coherence. “I have the world at my fingertips!”, he chirped excitedly extending his fingers, palms raised to the ceiling, almost as if he expected the man at the other side of the couch to actually see the world hanging off those slender hands.

“Right…”, Shizuo sighed in resignation, crushing his split in two cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table in front of him, “you wanna get some rest?”

Izaya pouted again and the expression seemed to be involuntary, almost unregistered.

“I don’t feel like sleeping”.

“Well _I_ do. It’s late and I have to work in the morning”, he stood up but the informant cut him off with a mischievous smirk:

“Will you kiss me goodnight first?”

“Why? So you can laugh at my face and then disappear without a word?”, he spat the words having seen this story unfold too many times in the past.

“Is that what you think I’d do?”, he shifted to the centre of the couch, closer to the blonde who was now standing just a few inches away, and sat on his legs.

“It’s what you _always_ do!” If he didn’t know any better, Shizuo would interpret the look on the informant’s face as regret. As he stood there watching the man who had repeatedly ruined his life, slender fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back down on the couch. Izaya moved carefully, testing the blonde’s reaction so as to avoid any upcoming fits of rage; he pushed the strong body against the arm of the couch, pressed his own body against it and brushed their lips together, asking permission for a kiss. The blonde wrapped his hands around the thin waist of the man on top of him, unable to resist the warmth of that bony figure, and pushed his tongue inside the man’s mouth… only to push him away seconds later with a horrified look on his face. “It tastes like -”

“Sperm. That’s what it is, anyway”, Izaya shrugged indifferently and leaned in to resume their kissing, but Shizuo pushed him away more forcefully.

“You mean…”, the mortification was still there in his brown-with-a-touch-of-honey irises and he seemed to struggle for the right words, “…you are telling me that you… you -”

“I sucked him off, will you kiss me now?”, the informant asked, perfectly oblivious to the expression on the blonde’s face. Seeing that the beast wasn’t conforming to his wish he sighed and slouched back against the other arm of the couch. “It’s the law of business Shizu-chan; if you want something then you have to offer something back”.

“And you offer _yourself_?”, he was dumbfounded and clearly disgusted at the thought. Izaya shrugged nonchalantly.

“Sure, if that’s what it takes”, and seeing Shizuo furrow his brow he went on to explain. “It’s not like I fuck every guy I do business with. It’s just another… tactic. One that I only use on people who don’t know who I am, people who are just… visiting, let’s say. It’s usually very successful”.

“Which makes you a good prostitute!”, he meant the words to be hurtful, but the informant just frowned refusing to comment on his accusation.

“Will you please kiss me now? I hate this foul taste in my mouth, I’d rather have yours instead”.

Shizuo kept staring at the man with an ugly look on his face. He’d known that Izaya was fucking others as well, but had never come face to face with the fact, and now that the evidence was staring back at him he couldn’t help but feel… betrayed. It was ridiculous, he knew, but couldn’t seem to fight the feeling. He stressed the disgust only to hide the jealousy that was eating him away, for he knew the informant would use the feeling against him if he dared show it.

“You are worse than I thought you were”, he mumbled and Izaya rolled his eyes, looking more sober by the minute.

“You and your stupid moral code! There’s no room for purity in this world, beast, _you_ of all people should know!”

He didn’t like the malice that immerged in the flea’s words, he didn’t like the fact that he seemed to be sobering up with their conversation; he resented the idea of tasting another man in that vulgar mouth, but he resented the idea of refusing the only chance he’d had to kiss that mouth in months even worse. So he leaned in and brushed the cool cheek with his knuckles before pressing his lips against the mouth that kept feeding him poison. The thin lips were parted and Shizuo forced his tongue inside, rubbing it against Izaya’s, caressing the warm wet walls - his palate, the inside of his lips -, tasting the other man’s cum inside his lover’s mouth. When he started to break away, the informant grabbed him by the hair and prolonged the kiss pushing his tongue deep inside the blonde’s mouth, opening his eyes to gaze deep into those honey tinted irises; it was that touch of gold, shimmering in the dark during their most intimate moments, that made them look so warm and endearing. When he finally let go, Shizuo pulled away from him breathless and lightheaded, but didn’t have time to catch his breath; Izaya forced him down on the couch and tugged on his pajama bottoms, freeing his erection only to trap it in the tight heat of his mouth. The sensation blew his mind away and he moaned loudly – before remembering that they were doing this on the couch Kasuka had bought for him as a present when he moved in this apartment, the couch Kasuka had sat in that first and only time he’d come to visit. “W-wait, ahhh… Iz- mmm, Izaya, st-stop!”, but Izaya didn’t pay him any attention and even though he clenched his fist in black hair he couldn’t bring himself to pull that face away. The informant had never before done this to him, not since that first night when he had gone so far as to lick the tip of his member, but he was now hungrily devouring his full length and Shizuo wanted to feel this so bad he didn’t mind dirtying his beloved brother’s couch – no matter how badly he needed to preserve the hope, he knew deep inside that Kasuka would never visit him again to sit in that couch, anyway. It didn’t take long for the heat to consume him and in the midst of his orgasm he heard Izaya gulp. When he looked down he saw the man smiling at him slyly, like a child that’s just been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. He licked his lips playfully and purred “You taste nice” before diving back down to lick any remaining cum and then suck the blonde’s balls. When he reemerged from between Shizuo’s legs he seemed foolishly content and he collapsed on the hard abdomen beneath him.

Shizuo let him lie like this for a few minutes before sitting up and pulling the thin body in his arms. His large eyes were shut and his pale face looked so serene the blonde felt certain he was sleeping.

“Let’s go to bed, ok?”

“Mmm…ok”, Izaya stood up with eyes half shut and swayed a bit. He kept one hand extended to the wall, barely touching, to help him balance his weight as he walked to the bedroom. Shizuo sat there watching him, mesmerized, as he disappeared in the corridor. He stood up, turned the lights off and followed him into the room expecting to find him lying in bed, maybe even asleep already. But Izaya was standing in front of the window, face and hands glued to the cool glass.

“You have a _wonderful_ view”.

His apartment in Shinjuku had a far better view. All Shizuo could see from his window was the neighboring buildings, the street in front of his apartment block and a couple of rundown stores. The neighborhood was bustling with life 24/7, which meant there was lights and traffic through the night, but that could hardly compete with the view of Izaya’s top floor spacious apartment with the window walls in his office. Before he could voice any of those thoughts the informant spoke up again:

“Like a shiny ocean of stars”, he rolled the words in his mouth and giggled at the sound.

“It’s just the traffic”, the blonde felt rather embarrassed by the talk of his neighborhood.

“It’s _people_ Shizu-chan, the essence of the world! They’re out there; living and lusting and hoping and hating and loving…”, there was a long pause, filled with something that felt like sadness, but the feeling was gone by the time he spoke up again: “… and they’re all mine to play with; mine to break and put the pieces back together again. Mine to crush them under my thumb if I so wish!”

There was a touch of hysteria in those words, as he pressed against the glass like he wanted to jump out of it and into the street to meet his beloved humanity, and Shizuo felt rather disturbed.

“You’re crazy”

“And you’re short-sighted!”, the retort came quick and sharp as a knife. “You are _such_ an idiot. You could have it all; money, power, everyone around the world would know your name, people would worship you like a god! You and I could rule the world together! But you choose to waste away, like any common human being”.

He wasn’t sure whether it was meant as an insult or a compliment; he sighed and replied to whatever that was with a steady voice:

“I don’t want money, power, fame, people’s love… I don’t care about any of it”, and he would have stopped there if those large black irises, with nothing but a hint of a flame flickering in them, hadn’t turned to him, puzzled. The words escaped his lips and he regretted it before he had even spoken them, but there was no point in taking it back when it was already written all over his face: “I just want to hold you”.

Izaya’s eyes went wide and after a moment he started laughing – but it wasn’t the mocking kind of laugh; all Shizuo could hear in it was astonishment. “Is it _that_ easy to please a beast?”, even his eyes were laughing and the image was so beautiful the blonde couldn’t care less about the stupid insult of the word that would so often replace his name. He didn’t reply and the informant turned back towards the window before speaking again: “Go ahead then, hold me”.

As his body moved by its own volition, Shizuo wondered whether this could all be a trap. It was possible, but not quite probable; not the way this night was unfolding. He reached the thin figure and buried his face between the slightly protruding shoulder blades, letting his hands rest on the sides of the skinny body. He inhaled the spicy scent, let it fill his lungs and his mind as he envisioned a time when he wouldn’t have to steal away moments like this like a thieve, a time when he would be allowed to hold this body whenever he felt like it. Izaya took the large hands from his sides and brought them to his chest, wrapping them tight around him.

“There, happy now?”

The blonde hummed contentedly. He was tempted to ask for more – another kiss, a quiet evening spent at each other’s arms (not necessarily fucking, maybe just holding and caressing and feeling each other), permission to sleep with him every once in a while (so he could gaze into Izaya’s eyes in the morning, before they were filled with insane viciousness to make it through the day) – but he chose to cherish the moment instead. It’d been months since he was last allowed to hold that frail body in his hands and he had missed the warmth.

“Say something”

“Mmm?”, Shizuo was not very good with words and he didn’t want to spoil the moment anyway. “I… don’t have anything to say”.

“Just talk. _I_ can talk for hours”

“You like the sound of your voice too much”, the blonde teased him but Izaya’s tone was bitter.

“I just hate the silence. I’ve had to live in it for _too_ long”, he snuggled in the strong arms wrapped around his body. “This feels nice”, but Shizuo wasn’t going to let it go that easily.

“Why did you have to live in silence?”

“Hmm?”, he had heard him alright, he was just avoiding the subject. When he received nothing but the blonde’s expectant silence as a reply he shrugged with fake nonchalance, “I was… alone as a child”.

The blonde noticed the choice of words; the tactful preference of a matter-of-fact term over one that would communicate feelings the informant wasn’t willing to admit to.

“Where were your parents?”

“Away… working… living their lives the way they wanted to…”

“What about your sisters?”

“They were too young, Shizu-chan. More of a burden, really…”

He’d never realized how lonely Izaya must have been for the greatest part of his life. The blonde himself had had to endure the cold feeling all his adult life, but at least he’d had a perfectly happy family who loved him against all reason even when he repeatedly ruined everything his parents had worked hard for. He was a monster for the outside world, but he was still appreciated by the people who had brought him to this world. On the contrary, the informant had been betrayed, dumped by the very people who had brought him into existence. He had had to suffer the terrifying rejection all his life, alone and neglected. Shizuo wished he could have seen the truth earlier; he wished he could have filled the gap in the raven haired boy’s soul before it’d spread, strangling everything good in him. He squeezed the frail body against him tenderly, to make up for all the wasted time.

They stayed like that for quite some time before the blonde kissed the pale neck and Izaya brought his hands back to caress the blonde’s sides and abdomen, then slowly moving down to his groin to rub the already half erect member through the cotton pajama bottoms. He felt the man’s need grow hungrily and retrieved his hands, rubbing his bottom against the bulge in the cotton trousers instead. Shizuo pulled back a bit and brought his hands down the bony back that was outlined by soft black fabric, massaging it lustfully but wanting to make the contact last rather than jump into the raw pleasure of sexual intercourse, like they always did. He moved on to caress Izaya’s bottom through his skinny trousers. Hearing the man sigh, he pulled him closer rubbing his covered erection against the other’s covered ass. The contact excited them both and he could hear the informant whimpering in anticipation. He brushed his hands against the bony hips, bringing his hands to the front of the thin body, and slowly unzipped the fly. He then pulled the black trousers down, kneeling behind his lover. The skinny pale ass was exposed in the dim lights coming in from the street and Shizuo kissed and bit down on the soft skin, leaving red marks on it and drawing long sighs from the lips that were pressed against the window glass. He spread the informant’s buttocks with his large hands, devouring the image of the dark pink hole before sticking out his tongue to lick it… but the taste was horribly wrong once again. He pulled back, still spreading Izaya’s buttocks apart with his hands, and noticed that his hole was rather loose already; that horrible bitter taste was new to him, but he had a pretty good idea what it was.

“Did you fuck him?”

“Hmm?”, Izaya had probably not even heard him, still lost in the lust and the alcohol that was numbing his senses.

“Did – you - **fuck** him?”, he stressed the words struggling to control the anger that was firing up inside him.

“ _Of course_ I did! What did you think, that I sucked his dick and that was all? Come on, don’t stop!”

“Did you use a condom?”

“I _always_ do, now quit talking and go on!”, he was growing impatient and Shizuo could see his eyes shut tight as he’d turned his face to the side, his left cheek pressing against the window.

“I can taste the fucking lubricant in your ass!”

Izaya twisted his face and clenched his fists, and for a moment the blonde feared he was going to punch the glass. When he spoke his voice was strained and filled with hatred – maybe even a hint of shame.

“I can feel his…filthy…cock”, the words alone pained him, “inside me, the stinky rubber moving in my ass”, his breaths were coming shallow, like he was reliving it all as he spoke the words, “I can breathe the stench of his cologne, _please_ ”, and it was a real plea, “make it go away! I want to feel _you_ inside me, I want _your_ scent on my skin, _please_ , just go on”, his last words nothing but a whisper.

Shizuo watched him - muscles tense, fists clenched and eyes stubbornly shut, his breath steaming up the window – and felt his heart melt. _Such a fucking idiot; always pretending to be unbreakable_. He wanted to hold him and give him what he was asking for, but didn’t like the idea of licking off the lubricant this other guy had used to fuck him.

“You don’t taste nice”.

“Fine! Then stop playing nice and just _fuck_ me already!”, he turned his face to the window again, stealing away the wonderful sight of his anger convulsed features, but despite the defiance in his voice Shizuo could still detect the hurt in it as well. With a sudden, steady move he dipped his tongue in the perky hole and smiled at himself as Izaya unintentionally clenched the muscle down there, letting out a deep sigh. He licked and sucked on the sensitive skin, pressing the tip of his tongue inside, drinking the bitter liquid until there was nothing left but the sweet taste he was familiar with, and then he went on, taking in the flavor, enjoying the informant’s wanton moans. When he was full of that sweetness, he stood up, turned the skinny man to face him and pulled the black t-shirt off his head, ruffling his raven hair. And then he stopped, utterly horrified for the third time that night. The pale chest was marked all over with love bites. He clenched a skinny wrist in his hand hard enough to leave a bruise and forced the body he’d been craving to mark with his own bites and kisses into a painful position, arched backwards awkwardly so he could examine the traces of his lover’s infidelity in the light coming in through the window. Izaya didn’t complain even though he looked puzzled.

“You let him _kiss_ you?”, of all the things the informant had apparently done with that other guy, this hurt the blonde the most. _He_ was never allowed to kiss that beautiful skin. Sure, he never expected exclusiveness, but it would be a lie to claim that he wasn’t jealous, that he didn’t hate every single man and woman who dared touch what was _his_. Only he’d rarely ever had to face the fact that the man wasn’t at all his, so he could easily pretend that he didn’t really care. But to be faced by the evidence that the informant was in fact being _affectionate_ with other people was far beyond what he could handle and if Izaya couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse, he’d probably shatter that pointy wrist in his hand just to get back to him for all the pain he’d had to endure. The informant didn’t look at all scared though. In fact, he even rolled his eyes before speaking.

“I let them do whatever they like to me, Shizu-chan, that’s the point”. Seeing the beast resurface in the man’s expression, he went on in a softer tone: “He was _gentle_. Most of them aren’t”, he chuckled bitterly. “When relieved of responsibility, most people will choose to hurt you, you know”. He looked straight into the brown irises that had turned dark with anger and frustration and explained lightly, “most of them just want to bleed me; beat me up, whip me, cut me, tie me up and fuck me or have their friends ravish me while they watch. I don’t do it all that often, but if it’s worth the trouble…”, he shrugged. “It’s a solid extortion technique. Some people even loosen up during sex, they become more... talkative. I haven’t done it more than- hmph!”

Shizuo crushed their lips together to silence those hurtful words – he’d like to know how many times Izaya had sold off his body like that, but he couldn’t really take any more of the pain that tore at his chest. The informant was not the kind of person to let anyone hurt him, abuse him like that – hell, he’d never even let anyone _touch_ him. And even him, a man who knew nothing about moral codes, should have been able to understand that whoring himself away, surrendering control over his body to total strangers for the power that information could grant him, was low, despicable. And he _must_ have known. But he gave in anyhow, because behind all the crazy talk about him being more like a god, that was just how much he thought of himself.

All the anger he had felt at the sight of those red marks had now melted away. He kneeled down to pull the trousers off those milky legs and then lifted Izaya in his arms, holding tight on his hips as the man wrapped his skinny legs around the blonde’s strong waist. Their eyes met and they held each other’s gaze for a moment - black irises smiling with gratitude – before two skinny, pale arms were extended to the ceiling, missing their target for a few inches. Shizuo felt his heart pound in his chest and he lifted the feathery form higher up, tightening the grip on the milky hips as Izaya stretched his body upwards. When the tips of his fingers touched the ceiling he giggled and then let his head fall back, followed by the rest of his upper body, and Shizuo had to shift his right hand to the man’s back to support his weight and keep him from crushing to the floor. He pulled him close again and the informant smiled wrapping his arms around the strong neck to support himself.

“I knew I could touch the sky with you”, he said in a matter-of-fact tone and the blonde had to scrape all the strength in him to keep his mouth shut before saying something he would surely regret later on. Izaya wasn’t disheartened by his silence; instead he pecked on his lips and smiled happily. Shizuo took him to the bed and laid him down in the cool sheets. He took his pajamas off and straddled the skinny body, but the informant’s eyes where shut and he wondered whether he should just let him sleep instead. He looked so peaceful with his eyes shut; like a boy. He suddenly felt overcome by sadness for the years they had wasted fighting each other. He silently wished he had held this body in his arms before the boy turned into a man - the worst kind of man; unloved and unloving. That’s when Izaya spoke up, eyes still shut, voice just above a whisper.

“Will you be mine, Shizu-chan?”. Shizuo wasn’t sure what to make of that question and so he kept silent. “Otherwise I’ll have to kill you”, the unmistakable regret in those words washed away any worry they should have generated in the blonde’s mind. “Life would be so unbearably boring without you” and as he breathed the last word he fluttered his eyes open and looked at those warm brown irises, pleading with them in a way that was so foreign to that fiery black color. Shizuo smiled and his whole face smiled along with his lips – his eyes, the yellow bangs falling on his forehead, his nostrils, his broad shoulders, his muscular chest, his strong arms, every pore of his skin… Izaya had no idea what he was confessing with those words, but it didn’t make any difference to the blonde; right at that moment he surrendered any remainder of his pride and egoism to the man who had finally made him human, the man who had finally accepted him as such. He whispered the name of his creator before leaning down to suck hungrily on his perky nipples. He licked and suck, going from one to the other, stimulating and at the same time bruising them, while the informant whimpered and giggled. When he felt the skin swell against his tongue he moved down to the pale abdomen (ignoring the man’s chest which was riddled with the stranger’s love bites) leaving a trail of bites and kisses as he moved down to the informant’s groin. He wrapped his right hand around the other’s hips and his left one around his waist and held him down as he swallowed up his erect member. Izaya twisted his body desperately trying to thrust himself inside that warm cave but the strong arms that were wrapped around him held him in place. Shizuo moved his head along the length of the other’s member slowly, relishing the sensation. He could sense those large black eyes watching him and looked up to let them enjoy the view. He could never have enough of that man. He would like to crush him in his arms, mold the two of them in one so that neither of them would ever have to feel empty again. He wondered whether the informant could read those thoughts in his eyes as he kept licking and sucking him desperately.

“Sh-Shiz- ahhh… ooh”, he shut his eyes and arched his back, burring his fingers in bleached hair. “S-stop, plea- nghh! stop it, I –aahh- I want you –mmm- to –ooh- f-fuck me, ahh…”. Shizuo pulled his head back letting the slick cock slide out of his mouth with a lewd pop, grabbed Izaya’s hips and lifted them off the bed bringing his entrance to his mouth and licking teasingly, leaving a good amount of saliva on it. He then pulled the skinny legs over his shoulders stretching the informant’s buttocks and stroking the wet hole, slowly pushing a finger inside. Izaya clenched his muscles defiantly and growled: “Keep your fingers off of me! I’m loose already so use your cock instead!” He’d told him a thousand times he hated the sensation of fingers scissoring him, but Shizuo simply couldn’t understand how it was even possible to enjoy a cock spreading him wide when he couldn’t stand a finger or two. It was true though, he was loose already, so the blonde saw no harm; he pressed the tip of his member on the other’s entrance and fixing his eyes on the flushed face casually framed by his pillow he thrust in. Izaya’s features were twisted in pain and pleasure, his hands flung to the headboard behind him, clawing the worn out wood, eyes shut tight and lips slightly parted as he moaned and whimpered loudly. He gave him time to adjust to his length but the flea didn’t like his beast going easy on him. In between his ragged breaths he whispered “mooove”, and Shizuo obeyed making the bed creak beneath them. He moved slowly at first, but knowing that his lover liked to be pounded hard he picked up the pace fast, sending shivers up and down the other’s body as he arched his back and bit on his lower lip. He knew exactly where that sweet spot was, the one that made the raven haired man mewl and cry out, but he kept missing it on purpose; Izaya loved a bit of teasing. So he pummeled inside him, making him shudder from the pain he enjoyed more than anything, and only pointed his thrusts to that particular spot when he heard the breathy complaint: “you’re – killing – me”. The moment Shizuo hit his prostate, the informant let an inarticulate cry, bringing his fingers up to the broad shoulders above him and digging deep in the sweaty flesh. The blonde kept pounding hard, pummeling his sensitive spot, drowning him in painful pleasure that blurred his vision and numbed his senses. By the time the blinding, deafening euphoria hit him, there was not a trace of that other man left – the one who’d marked his chest with disgusting bruises. He was filled with Shizuo and as the blonde kept thrusting inside him to reach his own orgasm, Izaya wrapped his arms around the beast’s neck and smiled tenderly at him before nibbling on his strong jaw. He felt the thick cock swell up inside him and the next moment he was filled with hot cum; his lover’s cum, the only man’s bodily fluid he seemed to be ok with. The blonde collapsed on top of him and he let his slender fingers caress the sweaty back.

Shizuo, worried that his weight was too much for the frail body underneath him, rolled off to the side before sitting up straight with his back against the head board. There was hardly enough space for both of them in his single bed but they still managed to fit in there, somehow. He craved for a cigarette, but the informant hated the smoke so he refrained form lighting one. He looked down at Izaya and found him looking up at him. He drew his fingers through the raven hair and the skinny man pulled himself up, supporting his weight on his right arm as he leaned in for a kiss. That was just perfect. Shizuo would have given anything, even his life, to make all nights they’d spent together like this one. He buried his right hand at the base of the other’s hair and wrapping his left arm around the skinny body he pulled him up close, forcing him to straddle his legs as they were spread out in the bed. With their chests pressed together he could feel Izaya’s heart pound behind his ribcage as a bony hand started rubbing his limp cock back to life. He started to say something but the informant held a cool finger against his lips, shushing him. Whatever it was that Izaya wanted he would gladly give it to him. So he kept silent as the bony fingers – with the cold touch of a ring on the index – rekindled the desire in his member. The informant was not hard himself but he still lifted his body, positioning his ass above the blonde’s erection and lowering his hips to welcome the throbbing cock back in. He winced in pain and Shizuo was tempted to stop him – he wasn’t up for another round himself either – but there was something in his expression that numbed him. Izaya wrapped his arms around the beast’s strong neck and started riding him roughly. He whimpered and giggled at the same time, crying out in a sickening mixture of pain and pleasure every now and then, while the blonde nibbled on his ear, trying to ignore the unmistakable signs of hurt and desperation. The informant kept moving hysterically on top of him, rocking his hips like he couldn’t get enough, and Shizuo loved the sensation – he couldn’t help moaning loudly in his lover’s ear as their bodies were pressed together – but at the same time couldn’t stop thinking that there was something wrong with that picture. He run his hands up the skinny body bouncing on top of him and realized Izaya was shaking violently. He wanted to see his face, but the skinny arms were crushing his neck, blocking his view, so he grabbed them both and pulled the man off of him forcefully. But the informant whimpered and twisted his body to escape the strong grip, desperately trying to prolong their contact.

“Hey, stop it! You’ll end up hurting yourself!”, Shizuo lifted him off of him and laid him down on the bed, ignoring his whimpers. He loomed over him and examined his pale face; he looked about to pass out from the exhaustion, but there was something more there, something that screamed desperation. The blonde confirmed that that was in fact the feeling he was seeing when Izaya spoke up:

“Please… I want…to feel…you…inside me…”, he was breathless and his voice was hardly audible as his eyelids kept shutting defiantly while he struggled to stay awake. “Please… let me… feel you… some more”.

In his drunken, worn out state Izaya had realized the truth that Shizuo had chosen to ignore; the sun would rise soon and this dreamy night would be over, gone forever along with every single truth they’d spoken to each other, along with all the tenderness and affection they’d shared in those few hours. Neither of them wanted it to be over, but there was no escaping the hard reality of the morning light. The raven haired boy wished to prolong their contact – for as long as possible. And Shizuo was going to grant his wish because nothing could ever make him happier. He rolled the informant on his side and spooned him from behind, carefully sliding his member inside him. The skinny man sighed contentedly and the blonde wrapped his arm around the cool chest, holding him tight. He didn’t move inside his lover; he just laid there, cherishing the feeling of being welcomed into that warmth. He kissed the back of the slender neck that was stretched out on his pillow and whispered: “I _am_ yours, flea” - but the raven haired man was fast asleep already, lulled by the sweet sensation of having _his_ beast inside him.

When Shizuo’s alarm clock went off, Izaya was the first one to react. He jumped up, grabbed the flimsy object and fumbled with the switch before hurling it to the other side of the room. He then dug his fingers in his hair and rocked silently back and forth with his eyes shut tight. When he heard a familiar voice asking him whether he was ok, he jumped out of the bed and stared at the naked beast in bewilderment.

“Where…”, but no, that question was unnecessary, he could see the miserable bedroom he’d visited lots of times in the past six months - “ _what_ am I doing here?”

“You came in drunk last night”

“I… _what_?”, he stared in disbelief, frustration building up in his chest. He looked down at his naked body and then back at Shizuo with an accusative frown. “You _fucked_ me?”

“ _We_ had sex”, he refrained from saying _we made love_ – the boy he’d spent the night with was gone.

“You _fucked_ me when I was completely out of it? I could _sue_ you for sexual harassment!”, he was putting his clothes on, hands shaking with rage – he hated losing control over alcohol, but he resented even more the fact that he’d allowed his enemy to see him like that. And then a thought flashed in his brain.

“You’ve been coming here by your own free will for the past six months now!”, but Izaya wasn’t listening, he was staring at him, his eyes burning holes through him.

“What did I _say_?”

A set of images flashed before Shizuo’s eyes but he knew better than to share any of those memories with the raging man in front of him.

“Not much. Some… crap I didn’t understand. We didn’t talk much”.

Izaya didn’t seem to believe him, but he wanted so badly to be out of that apartment and into the street that he didn’t stay to interrogate his enemy. He just glared at him defiantly before straddling the few feet to the door and disappearing into the corridor, slamming the apartment door behind him a few moments later. Shizuo collapsed back in the bed with his eyes shut. The look on those large black irises had left no doubt; the informant could not remember a thing about the night they’d spent together. If it ever came back to him it would be nothing but fragments – probably not enough for someone as stubborn as him to put the pieces back together again. Perhaps it was better that way. Once again he realized that the man he had handed his heart to was buried so deep behind the pain in Izaya’s soul, it would take something of a miracle to bring him back to life. A miracle or a tragedy.


	6. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d found the pain revitalizing – or so he’d told himself. He started seeking it.

Following that night, Izaya disappeared for over two months. He could tell by the look in Shizuo’s eyes that he had said things he shouldn’t have and kept his distance until he was convinced he was in control of the situation. His worries couldn’t have been more misplaced though; he was not worried that he had confessed feelings he shouldn’t have – as far as he was concerned, he had no feelings for the beast -, but rather that in his drunken delirium he had revealed his glorious plan to the one man who could stop him. So he kept away until his scheme materialized and only showed up at the rundown apartment again after he had already infiltrated several government departments; controlling bureaucrats, police officers and even higher-ups in the army. Influencing politics was not his direct interest, but it could serve his goal to turn Tokyo into a battlefield – a goal he had set out to materialize, reenergized by his brilliant new game with the blonde.

 

Shizuo instinctively knew it would be a while before he saw the flea again, but the knowledge hadn’t made his torture any more bearable. At least he’d had the memory of that beautiful night to keep him company. Izaya had randomly called him a couple of times during that period, just to ask “missed me?” with a mockingly husky voice and then burst into cold, vicious laughter – the blonde had not dared admit that he had, he’d simply pressed the device tight against his ear and savored the voice of the man he had to pretend he hated the most. The calling wasn’t a new thing; whenever he’d disappear for over a couple of weeks, the informant would call his enemy, saying nothing more than those two words with a daring question mark at the end. Perhaps he knew that the sound of his voice was enough to keep Shizuo lingering for just a little bit longer – or maybe perhaps he needed the sound of the other’s wild roar, moments before smashing the phone in his hand, to keep him sane, even though neither of them would ever dare think that far. 

 

So when he finally showed up again, he was welcomed by a pair of hazy brown eyes and a sexual appetite that could not be satiated. He’d stayed longer than usual that night and he’d had to muster all his strength and concentration to remain unaffected by the lust that ravaged his body through Shizuo’s voracious thrusts. When the beast finally seemed satisfied, Izaya put his clothes back on leisurely straining a look of boredom on his face and was about to leave when he heard the other’s faltering voice.

 

“That guy… Ah, I mean, th-that night… last time you were here…”

 

Izaya turned to look at him, wondering what on earth his little toy was so worked up about. But the blonde wasn’t looking at him; his eyes were fixed on an invisible spot at the rumpled sheets on the bed he was half-lying in. He took a deep breath and blurted out:

 

“Who was he?”

 

Izaya stared at him silently for a few moments. He knew who the beast was referring to, only he couldn’t understand how on earth Shizuo would know about that. Had he told him himself at some point during that night he could not remember? Watching him fiddle with the sheets nervously, still refusing to meet the informant’s gaze, Izaya realized his body would have carried the traces of his encounter with the other man. He couldn’t remember much of that encounter – he had made sure he wouldn’t have to remember much, by drowning himself in the bitter drink he’d been offered – but there were still bits and pieces scattered in his mind and he realized at that moment that the marks he’d found on his chest that morning after returning to his place had in fact _not_ been made by his dear toy. So, was this the opportunity he had been looking for? Was Shizuo’s nervousness a sign that he’d felt hurt by Izaya’s infidelity? He replaced the mask of boredom on his face with that of oblivion as he stated:

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”.

 

It was a good call, seeing as the blonde snorted getting up to light a cigarette – just to keep his hands occupied so that he could fight off the urge to punch that phony bastard. He spoke through his teeth, exhaling bitter smoke along with the words.

 

“You know damn well what I’m talking about!”

 

“Ah, Shizu-chan is being incredibly boring” and he started to leave, certain that the beast would not let him.

 

“You _fucked_ someone before coming to me that night. A… _source_ , you said. _Who_ was he?”

 

Izaya smiled to himself before turning around to face the naked man who was blowing smoke like his life depended on it. Shizu-chan was way too confident with his body and the informant had repeatedly told himself he should find a way to change that. But the truth was he enjoyed the view too much to have it covered up by clothes. He shrugged his shoulders indifferently, but let a bit of enthusiasm taint his voice, just to aggravate the beast even more.

 

“A man whose name very few people are familiar with, and yet who has the power to bring down governments with a sleight of his hands!”

 

He was exaggerating, of course, but that was part of the plan. Shizuo was fuming already, his right eyebrow twitching slightly and his fingers stiffening around his cigarette. Izaya walked up to him with a sickening grin on his face – he would have liked it to be a look of concern, but couldn’t fight the triumphant feeling bloating his chest. He brushed his knuckles against the blonde’s cheek, hoping to excite the man with his touch – when in fact Shizuo could only feel the sting of a cold ring against his skin, like a blade stabbing him mercilessly.

 

“Did you feel hurt, beast?”, the words came out more cheerful than he’d wanted them to. The next moment he was pushed away violently – he even staggered a bit before regaining balance – while his toy grunted:

 

“The fuck I did! I just wanna make sure you’re clean. Don’t wanna catch anything from you”, and the way he looked at him, Izaya thought he could hear him spit out the word ‘whore’. Not that it should have mattered, anyway.

 

***

 

He was sixteen when he’d had his first experience with a man. He’d already tried sex with girls his age and he’d found it boring – to say the least of it. The guy was older than his parents – in his late 40s, as far as he could remember – and the owner of a small illegal gambling club; just a small-time crook really, but he was good practice for Izaya who wished to climb down the ladder of the underworld. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to accomplish - probably just learn more about how this world operated – or _how_ he would accomplish it. When he found himself tied up and gagged in the back alley behind the slum that served as the club’s base, elbows, knees and face scraping against the gravel, he didn’t feel panic or regret – as a matter of fact he didn’t even wonder why. He watched his beloved humans, faces twisted in vicious delight, as they gave him a private show of just how low and disgusting they could be. He felt the cold fingers touching him where no one else had ever touched him, he smelled the horrible odor of the rubber that was wrapped around the length of the man who was going to “teach him a lesson”, and felt the sharp pain of being ripped in two. And he enjoyed every bit of it. If he hadn’t been gagged he would have probably laughed, maybe even cheered them on. _That should teach him to poke his nose into other people’s business_. Only it didn’t.

 

He stumbled home and jumped straight in the shower, letting the water purge him of the filth of his beloved humanity. And then he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, a pale mess of scrapes, burns and bruises. And he laughed. Quietly at first, until his laughter turned dry and hysterical. And he laughed and laughed and laughed. If anyone had seen him, they would have felt disturbed by the hollow expression on his face; rigid like a mask, twisted as if broken. But there was no one there to see him.

 

He’d found the pain revitalizing – or so he’d told himself. He started seeking it. He realized soon enough that his slim body was quite desirable and that sex could serve as a perfect means of manipulation. So he took advantage of it. The more painful, the more fun. When he started making a name for himself in the underworld though, he had to protect his reputation. And then he realized that he didn’t really miss the contact; he’d hardly ever enjoyed it. The paradox of his own logic didn’t bother him at all; he kept using sex as a tactic, rather sparsely and only on people who didn’t know who he was, always finding himself disgusted by it – even more so when it was gentle and tender. Up until the night he showed up at the blonde’s door, he’d never desired anyone. And even after that night he kept telling himself it wasn’t the beast he desired, but the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a filler really. It was not in my original story, but I kept having this picture of Izaya in my head, just completely broken yet refusing to acknowledge his pain as such, and I thought I should add it.


	7. The calm before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He got up and grabbed his coat and keys, telling himself he was just going for a walk, nowhere in particular, just out in the streets to clear his mind.

Another week has gone by without him. A year ago I would have been happy to be rid of him. Now I feel like I’m suffocating. This time next week it will have been exactly two months since the last time he was here with me. _Two months_. That’s the longest he’s ever disappeared from me in the past 15 months. And even then he at least called to let me hear his voice.

 

I shiver at the thought that he might never come back again. I pace up and down in my tiny apartment – the door he leaned against that very first night, the couch Kasuka-no! the couch _Izaya_ sat in that summer night, the kitchen counter where he’d once left a glass half-filled with water, like he was planning to come back to drink the rest of it, the bedroom window, reflecting his features, fogging with his warm breath, the bed he’s lied in so many times by now – counting down the seconds till he knocks on my door again. I keep checking my phone, just to make sure it’s on and still functioning. And I sometimes take the opportunity to search my contacts for his name and gaze hard at that number. I think about calling him. In all these months I’ve never once called this number. I know he’d get mad at me if I did. But then I never had to, he’d always keep in contact, somehow. I’ve been telling myself _give him another day, tomorrow night he’ll show up and knock on the door like nothing ever happened_ for the past 5 days now. Enough with the waiting and the longing.

 

***

 

Izaya was sitting at his desk, going through random sites on his laptop, when one of his mobiles started ringing. It was late, but it wasn’t that unusual to receive a call from a client even at that time. He looked over to the right corner of his desk, where half of his mobiles were lying, only to find that the one ringing was in fact not among them. He opened the top drawer of his desk, where he kept the rest of his mobiles, and stared down at the device vibrating persistently. It was the phone he used for his more personal matters and the name on the screen read unmistakably ‘Shizu-chan’. He knew that the blonde had his number; Izaya had called him from it quite a few times in the past. But he’d never actually told him he could use it to contact him. The beast had had the audacity to save the number in his contacts and was now calling him to jeopardize the tight balance between numbness and normalcy that the informant had strived to attain in the past few weeks. He took the phone in his trembling hand and swallowed hard before finally answering.

 

The moment he pressed the device against his ear he found himself at a loss for words. Was he supposed to answer like he didn’t know who the caller was? Or greet the man like he would an acquaintance? He chose a more _neutral_ – as he saw it – approach.

 

“What do you want?”

 

He hadn’t meant to sound irritated - just indifferent, busy even. But the irritation was there in his voice and he was startled himself. The man on the other end of the line remained silent for a moment and Izaya wondered whether he should just hang up. But then he heard the familiar, deep voice, heavy and filled with nervousness and something else he couldn’t quite make out.

 

“Hello Izaya”

 

He felt the muscles on his face grow tense, the blood shooting up in his brain, and he no longer bothered to wonder why he was so irritated.

 

“ _What_ do you want?”

 

He heard the man exhale roughly before speaking.

 

“I’d like to see you”.

 

His heart started pounding in his chest. He went entirely stiff on his chair and replied coldly.

 

“I don’t have time for this. I’m busy”.

 

The beast sighed.

 

“I see”.

 

Izaya expected him to go on, but there was nothing but silence.

 

“Don’t ever call this number again”, he muttered before ending the call, dropping the phone back in the drawer, slamming the drawer shut, only to open it again a moment later to turn the phone off to make sure he wouldn’t be disturbed anymore. He cradled his head in his hands feeling a severe headache looming in.

 

***

 

He takes his time before answering, probably just to make a point as to who’s in control.

 

When he finally does his voice is cold, hostile even.

 

He doesn’t want to speak to me.

 

I give it a try anyhow, but he’s not even listening. I tell him I want to see him and he replies he’s _busy_.

 

What a lousy bastard!

 

I’d like to pretend I’m angry at him, but the truth is I’m _terrified_ ; I feel like he might truly never plan to come back again.

 

***

 

The informant spent the next couple of days in the same delirium as the first weeks after his last encounter with the beast; restless, unable to concentrate on his work, unable to sleep. Not that he had ever returned to his normal self, only he had found a way to make it through the days without hurting himself. On the third night he found his favorite chatroom plaything online after quite some time; the girl who felt unloved and kept wondering whether life was really worth the trouble without love in it. Her name in the chat was Aiko and Izaya hadn’t bothered to look into her, because he was not really all that interested in her, just killing some time, but he felt certain that it was not her real name. And the choice alone said a lot about that stupid little girl. Age 15, Aiko lived in the countryside with her parents and wished to move to the big city one day - the informant knew that she was exactly the type to be swallowed up by the big city but didn’t bother warn her; it was not his problem, anyway. Her parents were rather old, she had an older sister who was married and lived a quiet life with her husband and baby daughter, there were a couple of girls she called her friends, although she was hardly interested in any of them, and a boy who was supposed to be her boyfriend, although Izaya was sure she’d never even let him touch the palm of her hand. She was simple like that, and naive, but shamelessly self-centered at the same time, which made her stick out among the other boring girls her age. She had indeed been grounded for staying up late chatting with him every night, and she had had to stay away from the chatrooms for two weeks – the informant felt no guilt whatsoever. She told him her parents didn’t care about her, they only cared about their grandchild. He smirked at the screen of his laptop, marveling at how selfish some people could be. But then she kept overwhelming him with complaints about everyone in her life; her friends who spent more time with their families and boyfriends than with her, her boyfriend who was shamelessly talking to other girls – not even flirting with them, just talking – as well, her sister who was always too busy with her own household to care about poor little Aiko-chan – and Izaya was surprised to find that her whining didn’t entertain him at all. She was the kind of person who never offered anything to the people in her life – she didn’t _have_ anything to offer. And Izaya was just like that himself really, so he didn’t care to judge her for that. Only he knew to never _expect_ anything either. Relationships were very simple the way he saw them; just like business, give and take. If you’re not interested in giving, you shouldn’t expect to take either. But this girl was so stupid she didn’t understand that simple rule. He glared at the screen as he read another preposterous complaint, about her parents demanding that she does well in school in order to let her take a trip with her friends during the summer break. He brought his fingers down his keyboard, tapping a bit harder than he needed to.

 

[Nakura]: life is so unfair

[Nakura]: and nobody loves poor little Aiko-chan

[Nakura]: but guess what

[Nakura]: Aiko-chan doesn’t deserve to be loved

[Nakura]: because she’s a **whining stupid bitch**

He hated foul language but that girl had earned every single word. He watched the screen as no reply came up, imagining the girl’s eyes filling with tears in some miserable teenage room, and he felt excited at the thought.

 

[Nakura]: what’s the matter?

[Nakura]: cat got your tongue?

[Nakura]: Aiko-chan, are you contemplating suicide?

[Nakura]: ah, you’re too pathetic even for that

[Nakura]: go ahead and top yourself,

[Nakura]: so there’ll be one less idiot to bump into in the streets

 

Still no answer, and Izaya started feeling bored, disappointed that his little toy had proven so pathetic as to swallow her tongue after just a tiny bit of teasing. But then a string of words appeared on the black screen.

 

[Aiko]: there is no reason to speak like that Nakura-san

[Aiko]: I feel sorry for you

[Aiko]: I thought you were a nice person

[Aiko]: we were all created out of love

[Aiko]: and we all deserve love

 

He could tell there was more but didn’t care to read it; he slammed his laptop shut with a lot more force than was necessary and the device huffed helplessly, probably dying vainly for the sake of a teenage rant. His _beloved_ humans could be so self-righteous and self-important; depending on his mood the fact could either entertain him or drive him mad. _All created out of love_ : what a load of crap. Not everyone was created out of love. And not everyone deserved it. _That_ he knew for sure. He got up and grabbed his coat and keys, telling himself he was just going for a walk, nowhere in particular, just out in the streets to clear his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another filler, but the next chapter will be up soon and it will be much more interesting. Bear with me, please!


	8. Loser gets it all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d once thought of this man as his creator; the man who made him human. He was right, Izaya was in fact his creator, only in a different way than he had originally thought; he was the man who had finally made a perfect monster of him.

Izaya stood in front of the door for a few moments before he actually knocked. He just stood there, staring at the wooden surface, no thoughts crossing his mind; he felt calmer than he expected to. No, not even calm _er_ , just… _calm_. His steps had brought him to the beast’s apartment even though he had no intention of ever going there again. He fought the urge to turn around and leave, return to his horribly quiet apartment in Shinjuku. Maybe it was for the best after all; he could confront the monster and finally leave this story behind him. He raised his hand, knocked twice, and let his raised fist dive back down into his pocket. It was late and he expected the beast to take some time before answering, but in fact it was only a couple of moments before he was greeted by those brown-with-a-touch-of-honey irises, half-smiling at him with amazement. The beast was in his sweats rather than in pajamas, which had to mean he wasn’t sleeping after all.

 

“Izay-”

 

“You wanted to see me?”

 

He cut him off deliberately, steadying his voice to sound flat and emotionless – almost business like. A shadow passed through the infatuating brown and the smile – the hint of a smile – disappeared entirely. He watched the man fiddle awkwardly with the hem of his shirt before sighing resolutely.

 

“Will you come in?”, Shizuo struggled to sound composed as he moved to the side, making way for the informant who was reading the change in his expression without effort. Izaya stood still for a moment, staring hard at his enemy as if irritated that his time was being wasted, before stepping in the apartment with a weary sigh.  He moved straight to the centre of the living room, and resumed his rigid posture in front of the coffee table, opposite the couch, legs slightly parted to better balance himself, hands still in his pockets, facing Shizuo who was still by the door. The blonde studied him uneasily, like he was not liking what he was seeing, and Izaya gave him another moment before asking again.

 

“You wanted to see me?”

 

The sound of the informant’s voice seemed to breathe life into the beast and he shut the door before moving towards him, speaking in a soft but cautious tone.

 

“Yes… yes, I did”, and he stopped a few feet away, looking uncertain as to what he wanted to do next.

 

“So?”, Izaya kept up the deadpan expression, drawing the word to stress his irritation. For a moment the beast seemed to be lost for words.

 

“I… ah, I just… I don’t know, I guess… I just… wanted to see you”.

 

The informant rolled his eyes emphatically and even sent the edges of his coat dancing around him as he extended his hands to the sides in his pockets, in a gesture of exasperation.

 

“Now you’ve seen me, I guess I can get going”, and he started to move for the door - but stress and frustration had always succeeded in making Shizuo eloquent.

 

“You disappeared”. Izaya hadn’t really moved from the spot where he was standing, but the blonde spoke hurriedly, as if to stop him from leaving, from going back to being nothing but a memory – and a bad one for that matter. “I…”, he took a deep, unsteady breath, “I haven’t seen you… _or heard from you…_ in almost two months”. _56 days_ , thought the informant silently – not that he was counting – and hurried to speak up again in order to silence the voice in his mind.

 

“And?” He shrugged, keeping up his rigid mask of irritation, making the beast slouch a bit as if already exhausted by their talk.

 

“I… was worried”, he glanced up at Izaya but looked away as he went on, “that you might… I dunno… never show up again, maybe?”, and the way he ended that statement with a question mark sounded almost as if he was asking the man standing opposite him to deny it.

   
”And what if I did?”, Shizuo looked up puzzled. “Never show up again”, he explained flatly. Again the blonde seemed to be at a loss for words. He turned fidgety, almost blushed as he ruffled his hair with his right hand and then let it rest on the back of his neck. He looked straight at Izaya, searching his face for some hint of emotion, and huffed pitifully before speaking again.

 

“I missed you”.

 

Three short, simple words spoken with caution, even a hint of dread.

 

A million thoughts rushed into the informant’s brain simultaneously, screaming all together to draw his attention. But he wasn’t really hearing any of them. The only sound that reached his ears was the hammering of his heart against his ribcage, like it wanted to escape. He fought the unnecessary self-consciousness – no matter how loud he thought he could hear his heartbeat, there was no way the blonde could hear it as well – and tried to concentrate on what he would normally do at such a situation. He came up with no answer; no one had ever missed him before. He felt pretty sure not even his parents had ever said anything like that to him, coming back from long business trips at the other side of the world. And he knew for sure he’d never said the words himself. So he just stared back at the beast, his look as hollow as he was currently feeling, and all he could offer was a toneless:

 

“Is that so?”

 

Shizuo was taken aback by that reply, almost as if he would have preferred him to burst into laughter or even sneer at him. He stood there stunned for a couple of moments, his lips curving slightly downwards. Then his expression hardened; he frowned and strode the distance between them grabbing his pack of cigarettes from the coffee table, pulling one out and lighting it before speaking again.

 

“I should have known better than to call you”, all the softness gone, his voice coming harsh, almost like an accusation – Izaya had heard plenty of them in his life span but couldn’t quite make out what his crime had been this time. He felt the emptiness inside him flood with the same kind of vindictive disappointment he could read in the blonde’s expression.

 

“I never _gave_ you my number”. There; his own accusation. Shizuo’s eyes went wide before turning into dark slits.

 

“You’ve called me from that number **I-don’t-know-how-many times in the past**!”

 

“And that gives you the right to save it in your contacts and call me back whenever you feel like it?”, he spoke slowly, unaffected by the beast’s shouting, his words heavy with irony - he’d already forgotten about that hollow feeling, about those three words he’d never heard before.

 

“ ** _I_ never gave you _my_ number _or_ permission to annoy the fuck out of me whenever _you feel like it_!** ”, he snarled, rolling his feasts menacingly while chewing on his cigarette butt.

 

 _I was invited in this house only to be insulted by this lowlife, this ape, this protozoan!,_ mused Izaya as he leaned forward, closing in the small distance between them, as he delivered his words at a low, threatening voice.

 

“ _You_ asked me to come here”

 

“ ** _You_ came to _me_! You seem to forget that!** ”

 

It took him a moment to realize that the beast was actually referring to that very first night and he chuckled – more of a sharp exhale really – feeling his muscles tense up spontaneously and his fingers clasp his switchblade in his pocket as if he was preparing for a fight. The talk of that night was agitating him for reasons he could not make out. The beast was threatening to beat him up with a memory he’d strived to bury deep inside and Izaya wasn’t going to put up with it; he was going to wreck that memory, wreck everything that night had given life to, and he was going to rub that filthy mess in the blonde’s face, just to prove that he still could.

 

“I _did_ come to you, Shizu-chan. But I think your stupid little brain misunderstood me that night”, as he spoke the words his lips curled up in what could have easily been the most blood-thirsty grin Shizuo had ever seen on the informant’s face. He’d hit a sensitive spot, he knew he had, the vein only faintly popping out on his forehead was indication enough, but even if it hadn’t been there he’d still know; he could remember their two real - honest, sincere - nights together in every detail, and no matter how hard the flea tried to twist the memories, he knew just where those spots that hurt were. But that grin was still unnerving and the insult was pushing him just a little bit closer to mindless rage.

 

“You’re walking on a tight rope. I suggest you move cautiously, Izaya”, he gritted his teeth but the tension had already built up between them and there was nothing else to do but to beat each other up with it; he might not be bright like the informant, but he understood that much. Still, he wasn’t prepared to hear the man run down every good memory he had of them - he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself were Izaya to push it too far.

 

“What did you think, you _idiot_? That you _meant_ something to me? That choosing to spend the night with _you_ , rather than some stranger, _meant_ something? Aha! Ahahaha!” and he burst into cold, manic laughter.

 

Shizuo rolled his fists, urging himself to not listen to any of that crap, _it wasn’t true anyway, he was there, he knew what it all meant, there was no way the flea was that good an actor._ But as he went on speaking, Izaya’s voice turned even more vicious, it almost cut through the blonde’s skin, seeped through it like poison.

 

“I was _bored_ , is all. I wanted to have some _fun_. I thought messing with your _empty_ head would be entertaining. But it’s no fun messing with someone _so_ _stupid_ ”, before he’d finished his word he was slammed against the wall behind him, Shizuo blocking out his airway with his fingers wrapped tight around his neck. He jolted his head to either side, trying to escape the tight grip but there was no way he could ever compete the beast’s strength. So he drew his knife instead and brought it between them, slashing blindly on the broad chest inches away from him. Hearing his enemy roar in pain he relaxed a bit expecting to be released, making it easier for the blonde to take the switchblade away from him with a violent yank, twisting his wrist in the process. Izaya gaped (and he would have gasped had he been able to breath); not so much from the pain – he hardly noticed it in his surprise – but from the violent and unexpected breach of their routine: _Whenever he drew his knife on the beast, the fight was over. The beast retreated. They_ both _did. They had this silent understanding that the moment the blade made contact with tanned skin it was all over; their war lived on to the next day._ Shizuo had just broken that pattern for no good reason. The tight grip moved from the informant’s neck to his jaw, clasping it like a clamp slowly closing in around the bone. He drew a few shallow, pained breaths, but as the grip around his jaw tightened even more he found himself breathless again, bringing both his hands up to desperately tug on the strong fingers about to smash his bone like a twig.

 

“ **What have I told you about threatening me with your knives?** ”, his cigarette still hanging loosely from his lips, Shizuo snapped the switchblade in two in his free hand and threw it behind his back. He then took the cigarette from his mouth and brought it down the side of Izaya’s face, relishing the tremor that seized the informant’s body at the gesture. But he was not interested in deforming that pretty face, no matter how smug it looked at the moment. He just wanted the man to realize he was not fooling around. If forced to, he _would_ hurt him – that was what he told himself and he even managed to find some logic in there. So he just crushed the cigarette on the wall, right by a few raven strands of hair, and watched the man exhale shakily. He loosened his grip, just enough to let him talk, hoping he would take the opportunity he’d been given to redeem himself before it was too late. Although deep inside he knew it was never going to be that easy.

 

Izaya glared at him, but the only thing he said was “let – **go**!”

 

“Why would I do that? You came here to be _entertained_ , right? Well, let me entertain you!” and he tightened his grip enough to make the informant groan in pain. He could feel the other’s jaw tense up in his hand, as if to fight back the pressure, and when he tried to move it in order to speak, Shizuo gave him enough control over it to do just so.

 

“You _cannot_ entertain me, beast. I though you’d be capable of at least _that_ with your ridiculous strength,” and his voice turned playful, taunting in its malice, “but you always held back. I was hoping a monster like you would be able to _break_ me, just the way I like it”. Shizuo’s grip loosened even further, as his eyes searched the informant’s, allowing him full control of his jaw. He chuckled softly before speaking again. “ _Why_ did you always hold back, Shizu-chan? Weren’t you supposed to _hate_ me? You always wanted to hurt me, no?” His voice had turned so soft, the blonde was tempted to answer him. He even unclamped the man’s bone and let his thumb and index rest under his chin instead. But then the informant’s expression hardened again, it grew scorning as he spat the words: “Were you _stupid_ enough to consider yourself capable of human emotions? Did you fall for me, you idiotic creature? Ha!”, another sharp-exhale type of chuckle, “What did you think? That you were capable of anything pure and kind and generous? **You? A monster?** ” Seeing Shizuo’s hurt expression he started laughing - a cold, malevolent laugh - growing hysterical, almost shouting. “Or that even if you were, I could ever **_want_ anything of the kind from you?** ” he kept laughing coldly in between his words. “ **Or that I could even _care_ about you?** **Is _that_ what you thought?** ” And then he suddenly turned serious again, his face falling in a stiff expression of fatigue. “Well you were _wrong_. I don’t care about anyone. Especially not about a _mindless beast_ like you”.

 

The words bled him like a knife plunged deep in his chest, and the way Izaya looked at him he could as well have twisted the knife before pulling it out, letting him bleed to death. Perhaps the flea was right after all. He _was_ a monster, a mindless beast. And he had been stupid enough to believe he was capable of love. Even worthy of it. As for the informant himself, none of that rung far from the truth. Shizuo had often thought that perhaps the man was not capable of caring. Perhaps he never had been. He’d seen traces of a human being behind the cold façade, traces of hurt and despair, traces of hope and goodness. But that was twice in a time span of almost 15 months – was it really enough to lay his hopes on? He’d already confessed the feeling that could be his doom though, he’d gone so far as to tell him he’d missed him, so there was no harm in taking it even further, in playing his last card to see where that took him. He drew his index up the man’s jaw line - not to intimidate him, just to feel the soft skin that’d turned red from the pressure applied by his fingers – and when he spoke his voice was coarse but filled with understanding, sympathy even; he almost pleaded with the stubbornly defiant eyes and the squeezed in a very tight line lips.

 

“It’s ok to be scared, Izaya. I’m scared myself”.

 

Once again the informant’s reaction was completely wrong. Shizuo expected him to laugh, to come back with some scoffing retort, he expected to see the man’s face light up in amusement; the same reaction he had expected to his silly confession - _I missed you_. The man he claimed to love, the _boy_ he claimed to love, was just as smug and hurtful as the flea he’d known since school; he’d laugh at people’s good intentions, wipe his feet on everything they held dear, suck the life out of everything he could get his hands on to satisfy his curiosity, and he understood nothing but pain and desperation. The only difference was that in all his viciousness, he still preserved a touch of childlike purity; he was sincerely amazed by all the things he did not understand, filled with destructive curiosity rather than malevolence, flawed and hurt and vulnerable. Shizuo was not stupid enough to think that the informant’s whole personality was nothing but a façade, he was not stupid enough to expect to find a _normal_ person under that façade, he just knew that there were still some traces of human traits under the intricate set of masks that hid that face. But Izaya just… smiled, and it wasn’t even a smile really, he just curled one corner of his lips in a peculiar twist of bitterness and stared hard deep in his enemy’s eyes before speaking – drawing the words with a heaviness that could only be attributed to contempt (contempt directed to himself more than anyone, but that was a detail they both missed in the midst of their dual).

 

“ _Who_ do you think you’re talking to?” and with a sharp move he’d drawn another knife and pressed it against the blonde’s stomach. “Let - me - go”.

 

Shizuo felt the anger flare up inside him and he no longer cared to shimmer it down. He clamped his hand around the informant’s jaw again and squeezed tight, grabbing the blade pressed against his skin with his other hand before it could pierce through - it wasn’t difficult to disarm the man when his wrist was already swollen and throbbing. He hurled it at the other side of the room before searching Izaya’s pockets, fishing out three more switchblades. He threw each of them behind his back as he came upon them and when he’d made sure that there were no more hidden knives on him he looked up to see the large eyes half-lidded with pain and resentment.

 

“Armed to the teeth, like some fucking soldier. But you’re not that tough now, are you?” and he tightened his grip enough to get those eyes to squeeze shut. “Always hiding in the shadows, getting others to do the dirty work for you. You’re a _coward_ , flea! Nothing but a parasite!” he spat the words, slapping the man across the face with the sharp insults.

 

He tightened his grip even further before letting go and Izaya slid halfway to the floor bringing his hands up to cup his face as if that could take the pain away. Before he’d had enough time to pull himself together he was pulled back up by Shizuo’s fist clenched in his hair.

 

“I’ve had enough of this. I’ve put up with all your crap. **I’m done making excuses for you!** ”

 

And his hand was back on Izaya’s jaw again and he kept squeezing tighter and tighter, feeling the muscle tense under his hold, feeling like he could break that bone just to hear the man scream. Izaya couldn’t help holding his breath as the pain shoot up into his brain and then all the way down to his toes curled inside his shoes, and all he could hear was the rising hum of his blood pressure skyrocketing from the torture. He blinked frantically, his eyes watering despite himself.

 

“I will only ask you once, so you’d better think this through before answering”, he gave the informant time to feel the screaming pain in all its might before posing the question. “Was - this – all - just a _game_ \- to you?” He felt the man try to move his mouth under the strong grip, blinking desperately to communicate the necessity of letting go. But he was not at all moved by the sight; he was a _monster_ after all, he didn’t know pity. “ **Don’t** – try - to speak. Just blink. Once for no, twice for yes. **Was - this - all - a game**?”

 

Izaya stood very very still. He could feel a lump in his throat and he tried to swallow it down but it was stuck there and for a moment he worried he might even choke on it. _Was_ it all a game? What else could it have been? A game, a plan that backfired. He’d played against the odds and he’d won – yet he was now about to lose everything. For some reason he would not dare voice in his mind, he felt like he had played the game betting it all against himself. He looked into Shizuo’s eyes; all the warmth gone, the golden tint lost in the cruel darkness clouding them. This beast could easily snap his jawbone in two and it looked like he was prepared to do just that. Izaya felt certain the terror he felt was evident in his eyes and struggled through the pain to change his expression, to color it with enough defiance to make up for the tears threatening to trickle down his face. And then he blinked. Once. And took his time, watching the blonde’s eyes widen, just a little bit, as the traces of honey reemerged from underneath the dark cloud of rage, as hope flashed bright before being crashed forever when the large black eyes blinked again, a lone tear escaping from the corner of the right one, running down Izaya’s cheek and disappearing under the fingers clenched tight around the lower part of his face. Before he knew it his head was smashed against the wall behind him, a wild roar echoing in the tiny room. He was overcome by blinding bright pain, his muscles gave way to the numbing feeling, and the only reason he remained standing was because Shizuo’s hand was still clenched around his jaw. The beast was seething; Izaya could feel his hot breath against his face even though his eyesight was too blurred to make out the familiar features. As the bright numbing anguish subsided, he was left with a sharp throbbing pain in the back of his head and a warm damp sensation, growing slowly but steadily. And when he was finally standing on his own two feet the paralyzing pressure disappeared from around his jaw line.

 

“ **You - _told_ me - it was _not_ \- a game. I would _never_ have touched you otherwise** ”.

 

The way his whole head was throbbing it didn’t really make much difference that he’d been released; the pain was just as bad. He let his head rest against the wall, feeling the stab of the wound against the hard surface and his damp hair sticking on his skull; the blood hadn’t trickled down his neck yet, so the bleeding had to be minimal. _Which could only mean that Shizuo was holding back even then_ – he felt just as relieved as he felt disappointed.

 

“Did I, now?” he slurred a bit, but made up for it with a smug smirk. “I seem to remember that my mouth was… occupied” and he chuckled at the stupefaction in the other’s eyes as realization dawned on him. “You were so blinded by your lust, you didn’t wait for me to answer” and he was laughing, softly but viciously, not even minding the agony that seized his whole head through the soft vibrations of his laughter. “I played you like a fool, and you fell for it! The game is over, Shizu-chan, **and I’ve won**!”

 

 _You know better,_ that’s what the voice in the back of his head kept telling him, but he wasn’t sure he could trust that voice anymore. It was the same voice that had told him he loved that man, the man he would gladly kill right there and then, the same voice that’d told him Izaya cared about him, the same voice that’d urged him to make the first move and call the man after 7 weeks of missing him, the same voice that’d kept telling him to take the risk; _it would be worth it in the end_. And the truth was, when it came to the flea he _never_ knew better, he never knew a thing. _He’d been played_. That was more than enough to let the anger flow in his veins, to let the beast take over. He’d been played and he’d been stupid enough to fall for it. He’d never had much of a purpose in his life, he’d never hoped for anything other than to be able to control himself. Broken people, monsters, don’t have the luxury of hope for anything other than to be able to put the pieces back together some day, to become whole. He‘d been led to believe that he’d done just that; he’d picked up the pieces of both his and Izaya’s broken lives and reassembled them in a complete, flawless picture. But the dream had been violently shattered in his face. The pieces were lying on the floor and there was more of them now than there had been to begin with - for any remainder of his soul had been shattered along with the dream. He was alone again, back where he’d started, filled with nothing but painful anger and resentment. He’d once thought of this man as his creator; the man who made him human. He was right, Izaya was in fact his creator, only in a different way than he had originally thought; he was the man who had finally made a perfect monster of him. If there ever had been any hope for him to become human, it’d been wiped out. He _was_ a monster; capable of nothing but pain, fear and destruction. And he would seal his fate by destroying the man who’d made him. He clutched a fistful of raven hair and pulled the informant close, bumping their foreheads together.

 

“ _I’m_ not done playing yet” and with those words he turned on his heels and dragged the man, pulling him by the hair, down the corridor leading to his bedroom; the room where he had once been led to believe that he was human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support people, you are the best! I really enjoyed writing this one - I hope you'll enjoy reading it! :)


	9. Know thyself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He fed on the pain; his own and others’. That was his supernatural power. He would feed on this insane anguish tearing him apart and he would come back twice as strong to crush the fool who had dared ravish him like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my most favourite chapter by now, I absolutely adored writing it (and rewriting and rewriting it until I was perfectly happy with it) and I hope you will also enjoy it, if only just a bit. That being said, it's a bit rough - ok, it's borderline rape, I shall not lie! So, if you don't like that kind of stuff, better not read it.
> 
> EDIT: Ok, so it's not borderline rape, it's rape, and it's violent. But that's only one of the things happening in this chapter and it's not even the main focus. Try to read between the lines. Or don't. I don't know, I wrote it, you can take responsibility reading it :)

Reaching the end of the corridor Shizuo threw the informant into the bedroom – he didn’t apply half his strength but it was still enough to send the feathery body flying across the room, slamming unceremoniously against the wall opposite the door, legs banging at the bedside table. Izaya cried out before crumbling to the floor in the corner where the two walls met, tucked in the small space between the vertical surface of the wall and the table. He pushed himself half way up and pressed his back against the wall trying to straighten his spine and defy the pain that made his breath catch in his throat.

 

“ **Get – up** ”.

 

He glared towards the direction of the voice but when the beast took a step towards him he hurried to push himself up against the wall, swallowing his voice as it fought to shoot out of him in protest of the pain his whole body was experiencing.

 

“Good. Now take your clothes off”.

 

Along with his voice Izaya swallowed his breath and remained perfectly silent and still for a long moment. He felt a chill down his spine, squinting to focus his still blurred vision on the silhouette blocking the door. It was a slim chance but he made a move for it anyway, and he would have made it out of the room had it not been for the agony welling in his back, head and legs that slowed him down. Shizuo caught hold of him and threw him back against the wall with more force than before. He felt the impact all over his body, even on the parts that didn’t come in contact with the hard surface, and the way his eyesight went blank, the air forcefully knocked out of his lungs, and his body screamed in anguish collapsing to the cold floor, he was certain the collision had broken all his ribs and sent them piercing through his organs. He thought he was going to suffocate lying on his back with his eyes squeezed shut, feeling the weight of an elephant crushing his chest as his body arched to defy the pain, but after a few long moments he gasped, the intake of air burning him like fire, and he rolled on his side, surrendering to a string of raspy breaths and jolting coughs. When he finally managed to snap out of it, he heard the beast’s voice again; cold and impervious.

 

“Get up”.

 

He didn’t sound the least affected by the sight. Izaya looked up and chuckled breathlessly at the hollow expression on the man’s face.

 

“Have you… finally… decided… to kill me, …then?” he was surprised to find that his voice carried no signs of worry – just pain. The beast didn’t share his surprise though; he cocked his head to the side without changing his expression and studied the man lying on the floor for a brief moment.

 

“You think anyone will give a shit if I do?”

 

He tried to laugh; despite the pain, the situation was amusing. But he found the aching in his chest was too severe to allow him any laughter and pressed a hand tight against the area that hurt him the most, right at the centre of his upper body.

 

“I guess… not”.

 

Deep inside him Shizuo felt a sting; he remembered a hurt, vulnerable boy who couldn’t stand the silence. But it was too late, anyway. The beast in the surface felt nothing but rage at the memory.

 

“Get - up”.

 

Izaya shut his eyes and drew a few unsteady breaths.

 

“I’m not… like you… beast”, he fluttered his eyes open and glanced at his enemy. “I can still… break”, he chuckled, “and I… I think… you’ve succeeded… in doing just that”.

 

“You’re not human enough to break, flea. Get on your feet – **now!** ”

 

Izaya’s eyes fluttered tiredly - not shutting entirely, just wavering in resignation.

 

“Can’t... Kill me… if you want to”.

 

Shizuo straddled the distance between them fuming and grabbed the informant by the hair pulling him up, ignoring his pitiful groans and cries.

 

“You think _killing you_ is the _worst_ I can do? **Guess again!** ” and he smashed his face in the wall, making him yelp as the throbbing pain in his head was intensified by the pull on his hair and the crush against the hard surface. He felt the violent grip on his hair disappear and slid halfway down the wall, but Shizuo’s shouting made him jump back up again.

 

“ **On your feet** ”.

He obeyed - mustering all his energy to remain standing - dreading another blow. Bringing a trembling hand up to check on his forehead which had absorbed most of the impact, he was relieved to find no blood. His face was numb and he was feeling increasingly dizzy, a high-pitched buzz echoing in his ears. He cautiously stretched his body in different directions, testing for broken bones, but despite the pain everything felt pretty much intact – which could only mean that the blond was still holding back. He chuckled, turning around to face his enemy, with his back pushing painfully against the wall to keep himself up.

 

“That’s my beast”, he muttered half smiling, but the said beast didn’t seem to share in on the joke.

 

“Take your clothes off”.

 

The same command, in the same stony tone. Izaya went stiff, his smile fell and his breath caught in his throat again. Shizuo’s face was almost split in two by an insane grin and he took his time before speaking.

 

“What’s the matter, Izaya-kun?”, the way he drew the honorific, Izaya felt like he was pinned against the wall. “This is supposed to be a game, let’s play then” and the grin fell from his face, leaving nothing but rage in its place, highlighted by the growl that followed: “take – your clothes – **off** ”.

 

“I’m not in the mood”, he chaffed, managing not to stutter, but the terror was rather apparent in his voice. The corners of Shizuo’s lips curled up again, but the expression couldn’t have been any closer to a threat.

 

“Too bad. If you make me ask again - you **will** regret it”.

 

His tone left no doubt. Izaya glared at him but hurried to take his coat off shrinking back against the corner of the wall when he saw the beast take a step in his direction. The way his jaw ached as if it was broken, the back of his head throbbed under the conspicuous wetness of warm blood, and his torso hurt as if he had been hit by a truck, there was simply no way out of it. He toed his shoes off cautiously, watching Shizuo’s manic expression. He had had sex with him numerous times in the past 15 months – he had even enjoyed some of them. It would be just another night, just another encounter; their very last one. The beast would probably hurt him worse than anyone had ever had; he had both the ability and the motivation. But that would be fine; Izaya had never feared pain, quite the contrary. He might even be able to enjoy it _– it might even turn out to be the best sex I've ever had_. And yet his hands and knees were shaking as he quietly removed his clothes, nervously folding them before leaving them on the side table by the bed. His eyes didn’t leave Shizuo’s for a moment and when he was fully naked he stood still, swallowing hard.

 

“Good. Now get in the bed”, and seeing the informant hesitate he asked wryly “Isn’t this one of the rules to your _little game_? That I’m not allowed to touch you before you lie down in the bed?”

 

He would have stopped himself if he could have predicted the words to come out of his mouth.

 

“I never expected a stupid beast like you to make the rules out on his own”.

 

By the time he realized what he had said it was already too late. To his surprise the blond laughed; a short, throaty laugh, and then commanded him with his eyes to obey his order. Izaya did so; he moved to the bed, eyes always on the blond, and sat on his knees, facing the man. After watching him for a couple of moments, Shizuo took his cut and bloodied sweatshirt off.

 

“Now – let’s see your skills”, and he walked to the bed taking his time, letting the terror soak in.

  
“Do I need to prove my skills to you, Shizu-chan?” he struggled to sound unaffected by the situation.

 

“You’re supposed to be quite the slut. I doubt lying back motionless is enough to earn you that title” and as he pushed his waistband down mid-thigh he looked almost calm – Izaya almost told himself it was going to be alright. There was no indication as to what he wanted from the informant, so he just leaned in, parting his lips to welcome the still limp cock in his mouth – and he almost wanted it himself, the thought _almost_ excited him. But before his lips could touch the other’s hot flesh, he felt the violent grip on his hair again and his head was yanked back.

 

“Keep your filthy mouth off of me. Use your hands instead” and Izaya obeyed, forcing his eyes open to gaze up at the face of the man who was hurting and humiliating him with so much ease. He touched and rubbed and pumped, but the blond was almost completely unresponsive. He rolled his fingers around the other’s sac, teasing him skillfully with soft touches along his shaft, silently wishing he was allowed to use his tongue instead – not only would it have been easier to arouse him, but he would have enjoyed it better himself. He managed to get him half hard after a lot of fumbling and groping, but Shizuo didn’t seem to be enjoying it at all. Holding Izaya's gaze, he pulled harder on the hair in his fist forcing the skinny body in a painful angle; a whimper escaped the thin lips. The blond focused his gaze right where that beautiful sound had come from; he saw the lower lip trembling, white teeth biting down at the corner to silence the protests.

 

Izaya noticed the shift of his tormentor’s attention and the intensity of the man’s gaze made him fear a punch in the face. But the beast surprised him, letting go of his hair and bringing his hand to Izaya’s face, tracing across his cheekbone and then down his jaw line with warm finger tips, lingering on his chin before leaning in, eyes fixed on Izaya’s mouth, forcing him to arch back in a position that hurt him beyond words. The beast’s lips brushed against the informant’s, the latter whimpering softly under the strain of the pain paralyzing his torso. The contact was soft and gentle at first, almost innocent. It turned deep and lustful soon enough, and Izaya felt the blond’s need grow in his hand before the kiss got desperate, needy, insatiable. His body was pushed even further back and the pain made him gasp, the burning tongue inside his mouth making it impossible for him to breath in much needed oxygen, so he brought a hand up to push the strong body away from him. That’s when he felt it; the graze of teeth against his lower lip, right before they were sunk deep. The pain made him jerk his head, causing the skin to rip even further as the beast refused to let go, and he cried out in his enemy’s mouth. But Shizuo still refused to break the kiss, chewing viciously on the other’s lip, drawing blood and letting the iron tang mix with the saliva in their mouths. The bony hands pushing him away were too weak to match his strength; they only made him want to drink more of that metallic crimson fluid, feeling the flea writhe beneath him. Before pulling away, he clutched the raven hair again and threw the skinny body down on the bed, wiping the foreign blood off his mouth with his arm. Izaya landed on the mattress on his side and craned his head to glance up at the beast as he too tried to wipe the blood off. He only succeeded in smearing it across his face but still smirked at the sight of the beast’s chest carrying far worse injuries from his switchblade and still bleeding after a good half-hour.

 

“Let’s see how much you like being broken. Turn around”. Seeing Izaya glare at him, Shizuo slapped him hard across the face before grabbing his shoulder to shove him down on the bed. “ **I said turn around.** **I don’t wanna see your ugly face** ”. He pushed his sweatpants all the way down and straddled the skinny body, holding the man’s face down in the sheets. Grabbing the bony hips forcefully, he pulled them up a bit, spreading the other’s legs apart. Izaya held his breath, expecting to feel a spit-coated finger shoved inside of him. Instead, he felt the burning tip of the beast’s member pressed against his entrance and shouted, despite himself.

 

“ **Wait!** ”

To his surprise, the beast didn’t move. Izaya shuddered a bit, realizing that his breath was already coming ragged because of the sheer panic that had seized him at the thought of how Shizuo was planning to get on with this torture. “N-Not…not like that”. The blond didn’t make a sound and as he kept the informant pinned on the bed by the nape there was no way for the man to turn around and study his expression. “I… haven’t done this… in some time. You _can’t_ go in like this!” he was almost begging, but that didn’t seem to move the beast at all. Izaya felt the strong fingers tighten around his nape and in the next moment the hard body was half-lying on his back, the beast’s warm breath tickling his ear as the man spoke.

 

“Do I need to remind you the rules to your own game, Izaya-kun? No condoms, no lubes, no fingering. **No affection -** **no sympathy** **-** **no mercy** ” and with those last words he plunged into him dry.

 

Izaya felt the pain split him in two, as if he had been penetrated by a sharp and burning knife. He clenched his fists in Shizuo’s pillow, pulling it to his face and screamed in it with his eyes squeezed shut. The beast wasn’t even halfway inside him, but he already felt like he was breaking in a million pieces. He had been abused in a variety of ways, he had suffered forms of pain most people would dread to think about, and yet this still felt worse than anything he had ever experienced. Back when he was younger, he’d surrendered himself to a number of savage men, and yet no one had ever hurt him quite as much. He had been beaten, tied up and even forced a few times, but no one had ever really taken him dry before; even if they didn’t bother to use any kind of lubrication, they still all used condoms, so it was never entirely dry. The pain he felt as Shizuo plunged inside him, he could only compare to that of a deep stab; ripping and burning, tearing him from the inside out, making him dizzy and nauseous. What’s more, no matter how badly he’d been abused in the past, Izaya had always managed to preserve some semblance of control; like he was willingly surrendering himself to the torture. Whereas with his face buried in the pillow and his muffled voice echoing in the tiny apartment, there was little debate as to who was in control.

 

Shizuo grunted, grinding inside Izaya, trying to push himself further in, but the informant’s walls were closing in on him, desperately trying to squeeze him out. He could see the man’s shoulders shuddering violently with every tiny movement of his hips, his face buried deep in the pillow, muffling screams and cries. He pulled out a bit only to delve even deeper, and Izaya twisted his torso as if trying to escape, pressing the pillow harder against his face, clenching his fists tight, knuckles turning white. Taking him dry like that was no fun at all – as a matter of fact it was painful even for him – but he didn’t want to enjoy this, and, most importantly, he didn’t want the flea to enjoy this; he wanted it to be painful and demeaning. He wanted to inflict so much pain on him that he would at least feel as hurt as Shizuo himself was feeling, for as long as possible. He wanted to _break_ him, just the way he pretended to like it. He placed a hand over the lower part of the informant’s spine, applying just enough pressure to steady him as he pulled his hips further up with the other hand, and then thrust even deeper, feeling Izaya’s body jolt underneath him, his skin shuddering under Shizuo’s hands. The anguished cry that came with it made the blond shudder himself. He pulled out with one sharp move, drawing another muffled scream form his victim, spread the man’s buttocks apart and spit straight into his sore hole. He didn’t even bother to spread the saliva with his fingers, he just pressed the tip of his cock against the burning skin and shoved himself back in. The spit eased his way inside the tight ass and he forced himself to the hilt, holding still for the briefest of moments to stifle his own moan. And then he pulled all the way out again. The frail body underneath him jerked and shuddered violently and the way Izaya’s ass was spread wide in front of him he could see the muscle down there clench desperately, trying to defy the forceful stretching. When the informant relaxed a bit, he plunged back in paying no heed to the slight tearing of the sensitive skin as his full length was forced abruptly through the tight hole.

 

Izaya felt the tearing and screamed at the scorching pain, his eyes watering. Before he knew it the pillow was snatched from underneath his face, and no matter how desperately he tried to cling to it, his strength was no match for the beast’s; his fingers gave way and he found himself lying on the cold sheets with nothing to muffle his embarrassing screams against, the pillow thrown on the floor. He bit down on his lower lip and felt his stomach turn as his mouth was filled with the horrible tang of blood once again.

 

“You can’t have all the fun, flea” and the mocking tone made him shiver, “ _you_ need to entertain _me_ as well”. He felt the beast’s lips brush against the tip of his earlobe and he swallowed hard, the blood going down his throat intensifying the nausea. “I wanna hear you cry, Izaya-kun, you’re gonna _scream_ and _holler_ to satisfy me” and as he pulled all the way out again only to plunge back in, Izaya did just that: he screamed, at the top of his lungs, feeling his skin tear even further, feeling the blood trickle down the inside of his thigh as his muscle twitched desperately in a hopeless effort to adjust to the violent shifts from being stretched wide to being let loose and back again. Shizuo didn’t give him any time to adjust; he pulled out, thrust back in, and kept at it for longer than Izaya could care to count. He tugged on the sheets with trembling fingers, pulling them towards his face, shoving the white cloth in his mouth. He bloodied them, screamed in them and soon ended up half-choking in them. It felt as if the beast had already been drilling him for hours; after only a dozen thrusts or so his ass had almost gone numb from the severe pain, the tearing had spread to more than one directions from what he could tell, and the squishing sounds every time that burning rod was shoved inside and then plucked out of him made him feel sick for he knew it was his own blood that was easing the beast’s way inside him. He tried to speak, to beg him to stop the torture, but all that came out of his mouth was ragged gasps. So he shut his eyes tight, struggling to fight back the tears, crying out in the damp cloth in his mouth with every thrust, until Shizuo finally plunged deep inside him and stayed there still for a moment to catch his breath. It was more than enough for Izaya to raise his voice, shaky, ragged, catching in his throat, but desperate enough to be heard in the silence of the room “P-Please, aa... st-stop nhg… please p-please… plea-ngh… please ppleasepleasepleasepleasplea”, it started as a murmur but soon grew into a broken mantra and Izaya let his mind succumb to the desperation, breaking into uncontrollable sobbing as the tears started running down his face. He felt the beast hesitate for a moment but then his face was dragged up from the sheets by the hair and Shizuo spoke in his ear venomously. “You have the nerve to _beg_? After everything you’ve done to me, you think you _deserve_ my mercy? **I’m done holding back for you, flea!** You wanted to see the beast, **here I am! Go ahead, entertain me!** ” He let go and Izaya slumped back down on the bed, not caring to support himself with his arms. The blond grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around so that his face was turned up, his body half-twisted to the side. His face was smeared with blood and tears and yet his eyes still held a bit of that smug defiance. He managed to stutter “It… h-hurts”, but the blond just growled “Goooood! I thought you _wanted_ it to hurt”. Izaya felt a heavy pain on his chest and all the sadness sprang up from inside him, bringing more tears down the sides of his face, choking him in relentless sobbing, making his shoulders shudder uncontrollably. Shizuo’s eyes went wide for a moment before growing even darker. “Drop the act, you’re not fooling anyone **”.** But Izaya couldn’t stop. He had no control over his body any more. “I said **– stop crying** ” and as the informant failed to obey him, Shizuo forcefully pushed him down on the bed again and thrust deep inside him. He didn’t pull out this time, but rather drilled inside him, hammering him with more force than he’d ever let out in the past. He ignored the voice screaming in his head, telling him he was hurting the man he only ever wished to make whole again, breaking him in more pieces than he could ever pick up and reassemble - for he was not human anymore, and the pale body underneath him belonged to someone no more human than himself. He was a beast and Izaya was a blood sucking flea, and that was all there was to it. He kept pummeling inside _the flea_ harder and harder, challenging his enemy to scream, to beg again; he wouldn’t stop until Izaya did just that.

 

The informant pulled the sheet back in his mouth and chewed on it as he felt his insides being ravaged by the beast. The pain stopped his crying, sent him screaming again, and he wailed as the beast put more force in his thrusts, digging deep inside him. The torture was unbearable; he twisted his body any way he could, screamed loudly in the sheets gagging his mouth, brought his hands to his back trying to push the man away from him – but to no avail. For a moment he thought that Shizuo was in fact going to kill him like that; tear his intestines and let him bleed to death on that bed. He didn’t care much; as a matter of fact, he looked forward to the comforting nothingness of death, even if he had mocked a good number of people for that kind of thinking in the past. But when his screaming turned into proper howling, clearly audible even through his self-made gag, Shizuo finally stopped pushing harder. He didn’t fall back either though, but rather kept that pace, the one that had made Izaya wail like he never thought he could, banging him relentlessly, without any pretense of pleasure in his violent ramming. The informant kept screaming until he couldn’t keep it up anymore. His mouth went dry, lips chapped, and even the bleeding from the ugly bite seized. He found it increasingly harder to breathe and the pain stopped being something to protest about after a while; Shizuo wasn’t going to stop until he was satisfied with his torture, and as for Izaya neither the screaming, nor the fighting helped him ease the agony. So he stopped; broke into tears instead. He felt his chest heavy - there was an unfamiliar aching there, like a weight pulling him down – and the tears just started falling from his eyes quietly. He hadn’t cried like that in almost two decades. He never cried as an adolescent or an adult, and he hardly ever did as a child - not that he was special in any way as a child, only there was no point in crying. Izaya knew that tears were nothing but a means, a code of communication between children and their parents.  And he would have made use of that code, had there been anyone there to communicate with. He kept crying and sobbing quietly, making up for all the times he’d remained emotionless when normal people would have cried. And then a thought formed in his mind; he had expected the beast to understand. He had _wanted_ him to understand – to see under the mask, under the carefully fabricated façade that kept him safe from the world. He had wished for him to break down the wall that was keeping him safely tucked inside, alone and hated. If anyone could ever do that, it’d have to be Shizuo; the strongest man in Ikebukuro. And maybe, just maybe, Izaya could finally become human. It had been stupid of him; the man was nothing but a monster. But he had still wished, _hoped_ against hope that he would have been able to make everything right, to see him for who he was-

 

-

 

-

 

-

 

-

 

-

 

-

 

_Who was he?_

 

-

 

-

_Who was he crying for?_

 

His parents, who’d brought him in this world only to abandon him on his own? The people he’d met in his life, who had done nothing but misunderstand and hate him? His beloved humanity that refused to love him back? Or maybe just for himself? For the years he’d spent alone, longing to be loved just like everyone else; the quiet evenings and the lonely nights and the silent mornings and the long empty hours of his empty life? None of that. There was nothing in particular that he was crying about; the weight pulling him down was not grief. It **couldn’t** be grief. He was not as pathetic as most people to cry over broken memories that could not be changed. No - _he_ embraced his past; let it shape him, rule him, make him who he was.

 

_Who was he?_

His tears run dry and his shoulders stopped shuddering. He even relaxed his muscles a little bit, half-forgetting about the pain in his lower back and the inside of his abdomen. He was _not_ a quivering mess of doubts and regrets. He didn’t even know the meaning of those words. He was _not_ someone who could be broken; not even by Ikebukuro’s strongest. He was _not_ an outcast in this world; he was simply above it. Perhaps he was not human, perhaps he was no god either. But that was ok. He was a _monster_ ; maybe not as physically strong as Shizuo, but still _fearsome_ and _fearless_. That was what his beloved humanity had always wanted of him, no? They never accepted him as human. So monster he was. He fed on the pain; his own and others’. That was _his_ supernatural power. He would feed on this insane anguish tearing him apart and he would come back twice as strong to crush the fool who had dared ravish him like that.

 

His mind didn’t register the 180 degrees turn of his thoughts. Izaya had always been skillful like that; ignoring his needs and desires, fooling everyone, even himself, into believing that he was nothing but pure evil. He had found something to cling on to – revenge – and he no longer felt the pain as something to run away from. No, he wanted to relish it, to let it sink in deep, like it had done so many times in the past, to make him stronger - which, in his mind, meant hollow. That had always been his answer to pain and despair; giving up parts of himself, growing just a little bit less human, leaving nothing but void in his heart. That way no one could hurt him; no one could break his heart, for he didn’t have one.

 

After Izaya stopped reacting underneath him, there was no reason for Shizuo to keep up with the torture. He had had enough himself. He rammed inside him just a little bit longer to break him even further, and then pulled out, sinking his teeth deep in the pale, bony shoulder he would never be allowed to even lay eyes on again. He heard the man hiss, but didn’t let go before tasting blood. He climbed out of the bed and turned the informant face up, almost to assess the damage. His face was pale and his eyes bright red from all the crying, but the large black irises were staring back at him defiantly and the flame flickered in them brighter than ever. He felt strangely relieved, even though he recognized the feeling feeding that flame as hatred. He hadn’t managed to break that stubborn fool – and his heart sunk in a weird mixture of affection and resentment. He pulled away before the beast could retreat inside him letting regret rush back in, walked to the end of the bed and picked his sweatshirt up from the floor. He used the already bloodied and shred cloth to wipe the informant’s blood off his crotch and winced at how much of it there was. He looked up and saw Izaya watching him. He didn’t seem disgusted at the sight of his own blood, he didn’t even look angry at that moment; as a matter of fact his expression was smug as ever. Shizuo walked up to the bedside table, took the clothes lying there in his hand and, after absentmindedly caressing the soft fabric with his thumb, threw them on the pale body, where the first bruises had already started appearing.

 

“Get the fuck out of my house”.

 

There was no emotion there; his voice was as dry as it would have been had he been talking to the wall instead. He left the room without another word, not bothering to look down at the bloodied lips that were twisted in a very familiar half smirk.

 

Izaya, left alone in the bedroom, tried to push himself off the bed, but the pain made him groan and fall back down on the mattress. He cursed himself silently – the apartment was so tiny, Shizuo was bound to have heard him from the living room. He shut his eyes for a while, drawing a few pained breaths, before opening them again to gaze at the ceiling with renewed determination. He faltered for the briefest of moments as the whitewashed surface reminded him of some _perfect_ plan he had devised over a year ago, but then shook his head and buried the thought deep in the maze of his mind. He brought his hands to his face to check on the wound on his lips; it was still bleeding and there was dried blood on his cheeks, chin and even down his neck. He swallowed his anger and raised his hands over his face, flexing them warily. Apart from some swelling on his right wrist, they were perfectly unharmed – not even a scratch. He then tried to bend his knees and raise his legs, but the calf muscles ached badly where his legs had banged against the bedside table. Rolling himself to the side he brought his knees to his chest - taking note of the jabbing pain in his chest and back - and slowly massaged the sore muscles in his legs. He did the same with his chest and his back, pulling his hands as far behind his body as he could, and then bringing them up over his shoulders to knead the flesh there with his knuckles. His head and ass throbbed worse than anything, but he knew there wasn’t much he could do about them at that point. He cautiously pushed himself out of the bed, avoiding to sit up straight for it would only make him yelp at the pain in his lower back, and swayed on his feet, bringing both his hands up to seek support against the wall. He glanced warily over the bed, taking note of the blood stains on the sheet, and couldn’t fight back a wince. Then he pulled off the sheet and used it to wipe the blood gushing between his legs, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling physically sick at even just the thought. Struggling to take a few deep breaths, he let the dirty sheet slide off his trembling fingers and to the floor. He found it was impossible to stand up straight; every time he tried to stretch his body, blinding agony would shoot up from his abdomen and pull him down towards the floor. He pushed his back against the wall, steadying himself to put his clothes back on. He struggled with his trousers for a few minutes, and then took even longer to pull his v-neck over his head, bent over double against the wall as he was. He fumbled with his shoes and coat and when he was finally fully dressed he felt about to collapse down on the bed from the exhaustion.

 

He forced himself out of the room, ignoring the heavy weight pulling on his head and the intense pain shooting up from every muscle as he moved down the corridor, sliding miserably along the wall, bent forwards. When he made it to the living room he saw Shizuo standing with his back against the wall opposite the corridor but along the other side of the room, so that he couldn’t really see inside the bedroom. He had a half-smoked cigarette caught between his lips and all he was wearing was the sweatpants from before – Izaya couldn’t remember him putting them on or even picking them up before leaving the bedroom. His chest was still bleeding, but the informant knew the wounds would have healed by that time the next day, and in a week or so there wouldn’t even be a scar to tell the story of how _the flea_ got him. He noticed his knives were all sprawled out on the coffee table, but didn’t dare move towards them; that would bring him closer to the beast - closer than he wanted to be. So he just slouched against the wall, feeling his muscles quiver heavily, eyes fixed on the blond’s. The honey had returned to the brown irises but it seemed cold and unfriendly. Shizuo stared back at him for a while - inhaling grey smoke, exhaling grey smoke. When he finally took the cigarette from his lips and spoke up his voice was dry and flat, almost mechanical.

 

“Satisfied?”

 

Izaya felt the anger flare up inside him and he resented himself for it. He was determined not to entertain the beast anymore with his discomfort, but at the sound of that word he felt the tears threaten to reappear again and he swallowed a whimper before it could climb up his throat. It was all there in his voice however, which was the complete opposite of the beast’s; heavy with emotion – pain and fear and resentment and maybe just a little bit of bitterness, sadness even. Oh, how the tables had turned.

 

“You – think – _you_ can – _satisfy_ me? You – think – _you_ can – **_hurt_** me? You, pathetic -”

 

“ **Don’t -** push it”

 

Even as he delivered the threat, Shizuo’s voice remained emotionless. Izaya swallowed the rest of the insults popping up in his head and clawed the wall on his sides with his fingers as he delivered his own threat, his voice shaking with rage, eyes heavy with tears he refused to shed.

 

“I will make you _pay_ for this”.

 

The blond nodded blankly before replying.

 

“You do that, Izaya-kun. You do that” and he walked to the coffee table to crush his cigarette butt in the ashtray, watching Izaya jerk and push harder against the wall behind him, almost as if he wanted to disappear in it. He held the man’s gaze for a moment, thinking to himself that those large eyes had never before reminded him of a wounded animal, hunted down and cornered by some predator. He looked away and without a word vanished in the corridor leading to the bedroom with steady steps, heading for the adjacent bathroom where he could wash away the blood drying on his skin, leaving the informant alone to pick up his knives and disappear into the night, never to come back again.

 

Izaya turned his face to the ceiling, fighting back the sobs that built up in his chest, and exhaled shakily. He was _not_ going to surrender to this feeling anymore, whatever it was; pain, anger, humiliation. It made no difference; he would not tolerate any more tears. He pushed himself off the wall, almost collapsing the moment his body was left without any support, and stumbled to the coffee table to pick up his knives. The smoke of the just crushed cigarette filled his nostrils and he clenched his teeth despite himself. He threw his weapons in the pockets of his coat, not bothering to tuck them in different parts of his body like he usually did, and walked to the door, doubled up to endure the pain. He stood there for a moment, looking inside the tiny, miserable apartment, and swore to make good on his promise: he was going to destroy the beast, put him down for good, break him into a million tiny pieces and then bury those pieces to the ground. He flung the door open and walked out into the hallway feeling a sting in his heart; he attributed it to his sore muscles and bruising skin.


	10. All the king's horses and all the king's men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo wasn’t very good at lying to himself; that was Izaya’s specialty. Monster, yes – liar though, he was not.

Shizuo heard the door slam and let his eyes fall shut. It was all over. When he opened them again the room felt strangely cold. He was still standing at the door to his bedroom, that was as far as he had made it; his legs refused to carry him any further into that room. He let his gaze wander around the empty space. Izaya’s presence was ever prevalent nowadays, and his scent lingering in the air didn’t help much. Seeing the bed sheet lying on the floor, stained with blood, he tried to picture the man using it to wipe the gushing red between his legs.

 

_Izaya…_

He’d always try so hard to push him off his limits, to make the beast _come out and play_ as he’d once said – so was he satisfied? Satisfied was not the right word to describe how he looked, with his back against the wall, shaking and limping and fighting back the tears. No, he looked… human. He looked painstakingly human; Shizuo felt bad but couldn’t help thinking it was comforting to see him look so human for once. He had crossed the limits, he was aware of the fact even as he was crossing them. But then, Izaya never knew any limits. No, Izaya would never bother think twice before crushing him, he would never feel any guilt, he would never let doubt eat him away. He never had in the past, anyway. What gave him the right to screw up people’s lives and walk unharmed with that smug look on his face? And, anyway, he had asked for it, hadn’t he? He had asked to be broken, he had challenged and provoked and dared the beast a million times in the past. Shizuo had just given him what he’d been asking for all this time. Perhaps that would teach him not to play with people’s minds, not to play with words, to be fucking honest with himself for a change.

 

He didn’t realize he was clenching his fists defensively. The tiny bedroom had never felt so empty or cold before. The lights coming in from the window were nothing but sharp accusations, fingers pointed at him as the red of Izaya’s blood stared back at him from the sheet on the floor and the mattress on his bed. For a moment he thought he could still hear the man’s screams ringing in his ears, he could see taut muscles outlined under pale bruising skin as they stretched and twisted in agony, he could even feel the warm blood easing his way inside the other’s tight entrance. Suddenly his stomach was tied in a very tight knot, forcing him to double over himself. His legs carried him to the bathroom where he gagged over the toilet, emptying his stomach from the remainders of his dinner. _What on earth was that?_ His breath was coming in pants and he felt tightness in his chest. With trembling hands he turned the water on to rinse his mouth and splash his face, then take the towel, dampen it and use it to wipe the blood off his chest. Some of the slashes were still seeping blood, but it didn’t seem like something to worry about. He reached for some bandages in the bathroom cabinet, but catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror he was overcome with nausea once again and gagged for the second time, feeling the acidic bile burn his throat as the tightness in his chest got even worse. The reflection in the mirror seemed so foreign; the man looking back at him reminded him nothing of himself.

 

***

 

Getting in the elevator Izaya slid to the floor; it was so much easier to cope with the pain when he was curled in on himself like that. He refused to think about anything other than making his way home. That was his only priority. Once he was inside his apartment he could assess his wounds, tend to them, and draw up his revenge. As the mechanical voice announced ground level, he tried to push himself off the floor and out of the elevator, but the stabbing pain that shoot up from his abdomen sent him crushing back down, his mouth falling open to deliver a silent scream. So maybe it was worse than he thought.

 

There was so much filth in that building; he let his eyes wander around him as he took short shallow breaths, trying to fight back the pain. From the floor to the walls, everything was covered in that characteristic grime of poor neighborhoods, of buildings crammed with people who had no time, means, or will to care about the condition of their surroundings - the stench of overspiced food always lingering in the air. He would not be defeated by such a miserable scenery. He practically crawled out of the elevator and clawed the wall with trembling fingers, slowly pulling himself up. Life could not bring him down. People could not bring him down. Not even monsters could.

 

He walked out of the building, step after cautious step, sliding against the filthy wall, his legs barely holding him up, and stood at the side of the road for what felt like a lifetime. Three taxi drivers sped off as soon as they saw his blood smeared face, bruised and swollen. The fourth one only took him in because Izaya flashed a handful of notes in front of his damaged face. The man watched him from the rear-view mirror as he crawled in the back seat, lying down on his stomach instead of sitting properly – he could feel the damp cloth of his trousers sticking on his skin and he knew that applying pressure on that torn and bleeding part of his body would be enough to drain any remaining energy in him.

 

When they arrived at the luxurious building in Shinjuku and after Izaya had paid him a little extra for the ride - aside from the money he had accepted just for letting him in his taxi - the driver handed the man his card, telling him not to hesitate to call him if he ever needed his services again. Izaya took it, feeling his stomach churn; oh how lovely people really were. He was glad to find the lobby empty and walked to the elevator with more confidence now that he was in his own space. But the moment he stepped in his apartment his strength gave out; the pain defeated him, sent him crawling on the floor on all fours, climbing up the stairs from his office to the top floor, where his bedroom and personal bathroom were situated, on his hands and knees. He had to stop a couple of times to catch his breath, to work up the courage to carry on, arms and legs ludicrously entangled in the open stairs, the fur trimmed tail of his coat trailing pitifully behind him, raven bangs sticking on his sweaty forehead; and he laughed at the mental image of him looking so pathetic in his own home. Such a pitiful display of his weakness was indeed amusing.

 

***

 

 

After emptying his stomach, cleaning himself up and bandaging his chest, Shizuo walked into his bedroom, tentatively approaching the bed. The blood had seeped in the mattress in a couple of spots. The sheet on the floor was a proper mess; he would probably have to throw it away. The tightness was still there in his chest, but he attributed it to the bandages keeping the cuts from bleeding.

 

 _Izaya had asked for this; if anyone was to blame, it had to be him._ He was clenching his fists on his sides as the beast in his mind kept reminding him: _He asked for it. It was his fault, no one else’s. If anyone is to blame, then it’s him. He wanted to be broken. He said so. He got what he asked for._

 

Shizuo wasn’t very good at lying to himself; that was Izaya’s specialty. Monster, yes – liar though, he was not. Izaya had indeed asked to be broken, but that was just a mindfuck, wasn’t it? That was just him being an ass, being hurtful, just the way he always was. If he had known his fucking place, if he could have stopped screwing with Shizuo’s mind, if only he could have been honest for once – his fist landed in the wall opposite him, at the same spot where Izaya had pressed his trembling hands for support when he got out of bed a few minutes earlier, sending a crack all the way up to the ceiling and down to the floor. Izaya was to blame for everything. Izaya was always the one to blame for everything. He was the one who had ruined Shizuo’s life. He was the one who had made him sever ties with his own family, disappointing them again and again after promising to try and settle down, live a quiet life. He was the one who had forced him to make a living out of the inhuman strength he only ever wanted to suppress. He was the one who had made him fear he was never going to be good enough for anyone, trapped in Izaya’s wicked schemes, coerced into using violence.

 

The choices were all his, of course. That’s what Izaya would have said, had this been a proper conversation rather than an internal monologue serving to deny any responsibility. But Shizuo’s thinking process never went that far. Even if it did, it would have been impossible for him to accept that he had indeed made all the choices he hated with nothing but a little push from the man he held responsible for everything. He wouldn’t have been able to understand why he had made them in the first place.

 

He kneeled down and took the bloody sheet in his hands. Izaya was the one who had made him believe he wasn’t hopeless after all; he could still love and care for and even cherish another human being. Perhaps he could even be loved, cared for, and cherished himself. Izaya was the one who had stomped on that hope. _Izaya…_ He clenched his fists in the red stained sheet tighter and tighter until it was shred to pieces in front of him and he couldn’t even tell how that had happened. He jumped on his feet, backing off hurriedly, reaching for the first piece of clothing his hands could find in his closet. He needed to get out before he ripped the whole place apart, himself along with it.

 

***

 

When he made it to the spacious bathroom he was already feeling faint. He laid on the cold tiles on his side, curled in a position that seemed to lull the pain as much as possible, and shut his eyes. His breathing was still shallow; every intake of air hurt his chest. The coldness against his skin was rather soothing and he would have fallen asleep had the vertigo not hit him. He panicked instinctively; clawed his fingers to the floor, as if to steady himself. The room was spinning - he could feel it even with his eyes shut - and the nausea made his body forget about the pain as he kneeled over the toilet to throw up. He hadn’t had any dinner – he’d been eating less and less lately – and the bile that came up his already sore from all the screaming throat felt like a double edged knife ripping him all the way up. He slumped back down on the floor, his chest heaving painfully, stomach tied in a knot. He felt more disorientated than dizzy, his skull being crushed by a heavy headache. His hands were shaking badly but he forced them to move, to slowly remove the dirty clothes from his body and let the coldness embrace him, make him shiver, naked as he was on the floor. His skin held a faint scent of bitter smoke and foreign sweat; the beast’s scent. Extending trembling arms to the toilet seat and pushing his back off the comforting coldness of the tiles, he managed to get himself on his knees. From then on it was easy to grab the edge of the sink and pull himself up to gaze at the unfamiliar figure reflected in the mirror. The sullen eyes, the bruised skin, the swollen face; it was not him. He brought a hand up to touch his swollen lips, noting that the unfamiliar figure mirrored the gesture, and then the skin on his forehead. The face of the reflection was a mess; lips torn badly and bleeding, forehead turning black, cheeks smeared with blood and dried tears – nothing but an angry smudge of black and red, and swollen flesh. He brought his hands to the back of his head and groaned in pain as he poked at the cracked skin, feeling fresh blood ooze from the wound. His chest and back looked just as bad. He turned his body to the side, supporting all his weight with his hands as his legs felt numb from the bruises forming on his calves, and saw the horrid black stretching out all over the torso of the man reflected in the mirror. A sob escaped him and he cursed himself for being so careless; he should have known that an emotionally drained Shizuo would still be capable of extensive damage. He’d walked into the lion’s lair without any plans; how could he ever have expected that to work out? The inside of his thighs was red with dried blood and he could feel more of it between his buttocks; not just dried, but fresh as well. He stumbled to the bathtub – large enough to fit two people, even though there was no prospect of Izaya ever sharing it with someone – and laid inside it, enjoying the coldness that numbed his senses. He turned only the cold water on, not caring for any warmth, and instead of filling the tub or even bothering to scrub himself clean, he just let it trickle down his body, lick the blood off, bit by bit, lull him in a numb and frozen sleep.

 

***

 

Shizuo was sitting down on a bench smoking one cigarette after the other, with Celty by his side. There were no other people in the park, even the gang members had long disappeared from the streets; the sun would rise soon. He didn’t want Celty to be there. It was one of the very few times when her company was in fact making him feel worse. With all the aversion she felt for Izaya, she would probably still hate him worse if she knew what he had done to the man.

 

“You should go. Shinra will be worried”

 

[I’ll go home if you come with me]

 

He hated having to read the messages on the PDA’s screen – he just wanted to be left alone, to choke himself in the bitter smoke of his cigarettes, to concentrate on what lowlife he truly was. But she refused to leave him alone. He wasn’t sure what she was reading on his face, but it clearly unsettled her. He silently wished she hadn’t spotted him sitting there on his own as she was heading back home from whatever shady job she’d been assigned with that night. Her worrying weighed on him; she shouldn’t be worrying about him, she should hate him for the monster he was. He took another drag from his cigarette, feeling the bitterness burn his throat, eyes fixed on the same invisible spot he’d been staring at for the past couple of hours.

 

“I’m fine, Celty. Just leave me alone”

 

She hesitated for a moment, but then the PDA was shoved in front of his face again.

 

[You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. But I’m not leaving you alone]

 

“You shouldn’t be so nice to me”

 

He had no idea how her body – her shadows – operated. She obviously didn’t have eyes, but she could still see. He couldn’t tell what the world looked like for her, whether her vision was like that of humans, like his own, but he could sense her watching him intently.

 

“Izaya’s right about me. I am a monster”

 

[That’s not true]

 

He went on without even glancing at the screen.

 

“I always hurt the people I care about”

 

[You don’t mean to]

 

He chuckled at his friend’s rationale, at her attempt to convince him that intentions were more important than actions; he knew better.

 

“The net result is still the same. Broken bones, broken promises”, he took the last drag before throwing his cigarette away, “broken people”. He took another one out of his pack before he’d even exhaled the smoke.

 

[I know you, Shizuo. You are a good man]

 

The words felt like a stab in the heart. He lit his cigarette and smoothly pushed the PDA away from him before dropping the lighter back in his pocket. _A good man_. He was hardly even a man. Just a beast; _a mindless beast_. He heard the words in his head and Izaya’s voice grabbed him by the neck, suffocating him – but not enough to mercifully finish him off. The game was over and Izaya had indeed won; even if he made a poor sight for a winner the way he had trailed off, doubled over himslef. If he knew him at all, Shizuo was certain he would never see him again. Strangely enough, he still had the nerve to feel sad at this thought.

 

“Can I ask you something personal?”

 

He didn’t turn to look at her, but could imagine her nodding a bit overenthusiastically at his sudden interest in having a conversation rather than staring at the empty space.

 

“Why do you love Shinra? He’s not the best of people, if you know what I mean”

 

When a few moments passed without the familiar device being shoved in his face, he turned to look at his friend. Black shadow was oozing from her sleeves and from underneath her helmet as she was nervously typing and deleting and then typing again. He almost blushed at the sight. He tried to wave it off.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. You don’t have to answer”

 

But she was shaking her helmet frantically. She wasn’t going to give up on her only chance to start a conversation with him and distract him from whatever problem was eating him away. She tapped on her PDA a bit more, the black shadow over her helmet expanding dangerously, and then extended her hand to him so that he could read her rather long message.

 

[I know he’s not a very nice man. He’s capable of scary things - although he usually has some reason that makes sense to him, even if it doesn’t make sense to me. But there’s more to him. He has another side, one that most people never see. And this other side of him makes me feel good]

 

He leaned in, regarding the message carefully. Celty watched him as he took his time. When he got to the end he smiled, to himself more than her, his gaze drifting back to that invisible spot.

 

“I think I know what you mean”

 

Even though he was smiling, Celty could sense the pain in those words. She brought the PDA to her lap, slowly shaking her helmet; she was not human and her own feelings were a mystery to her, but she had no doubt that the weight pulling her down was in fact frustration. Instead of distracting him with her answer, she seemed to have thrown him deeper into his own frustration.

 

***

 

He was awoken by the grinding of his own teeth to the violent shivers shaking his body. He tried to move his hands, to pull the blankets over his head and warm himself up, but realized he couldn’t feel them. That’s when he felt the water. His eyes flew open but the light blinded him, made him squeeze them shut, clenching his jaw at the same time as the pain all over his body started peering in his brain, slowly but steadily. He was not in his bed.

 

Turning the water off and getting out of the tub was a real ordeal. Once he managed to defy the numbness of his limbs he was attacked by the pain, intensified by the cruel tingling sensation the subsiding numbness had left on his skin. He was cold - no, worse than cold. He couldn’t stop grinding his teeth, he couldn’t stop shaking and the skin underneath his nails had turned blue. He kneeled down on the floor – standing required a lot more energy and Izaya didn’t have much left in him – and reached for one of the mobiles in the pocket of his coat. He started writing a message to Namie, telling her not to come to work that morning – he had to leave hurriedly and would be away for some time; he’d let her know when he’d be back. Before he could finish writing though, he felt an unnerving tightness in his chest, followed by intense nausea. He gagged over the toilet, half-choking on the acidic fluid, and then collapsed down on the floor breathless. This was no good. The pain was too much even without the nausea, the lurking vertigo and the weight on his chest. He could feel the blood as well, that sickening dampness between his buttocks, right in that part of his body where the pain refused to subside; he could still feel a sharp knife plunged in there, making him wince with every move. He finished the message with trembling fingers and then typed Shinra’s number – at that point typing it was much easier than looking for it in his contacts. It was still 5 in the morning – not a good time to call someone – but Shinra often got calls from unlikely patients during the night, so it should be ok. It only rang twice before the familiar voice answered the call, somewhat aloof – Izaya was using a phone his friend was not familiar with.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Sh-”, his throat hurt bad and his breathing was so shallow that talking was actually harder than typing. He swallowed, feeling his stomach turn at the horrible taste in his mouth, and tried again. “Sh-uh, …Sh-Shin-ra…”

 

“Izaya, is that you?”

 

Izaya nodded, perfectly aware of the fact that his friend couldn’t really see him. Now that Shinra had identified the caller everything would be ok; he would just send Celty pick him up and take him to their apartment where his friend, the underground doctor, could take care of him. He almost let the phone slip from his hand.

 

“Is everything alright? I can’t hear you”

 

He took a few breaths, as deep as possible, before answering.

 

“I… need …you…-”

 

It took him so long to form a single sentence that Shinra started thinking there was something wrong with the connection.

 

“The connection is poor. Can you speak up?”

 

Izaya cursed under his breath. Was he being thick intentionally? Thankfully, he knew just how to get him to shut up and pay attention.

 

“P-please…”. He was right. There was nothing but silence on the other side of the call, heavy with anticipation. “I need… you… to-ngh!”, he doubled over himself, a stab of pain knocking the air out of his lungs.

 

“ **ARE YOU OK**?!” Shinra finally sounded distressed.

 

“…need…help”, he spoke through clenched teeth as the pain in his stomach refused to let him breath.

 

“Are you hurt? Are you sick or hurt or- No, screw that! Are you home?” Izaya couldn’t reply and the silence worried Shinra even further. “I’ll send Celty over. I don’t know where she is, she’s been out all night, keeping Shizuo company apparently, but I’ll text her to come straight to your apartment, you just be patient-” Shinra himself never thought he had it in him to worry about anyone, even more so about Izaya. But the silence on the other side of the call was unnerving and no matter how terrible the man was, Shinra didn’t think his death would sit well with him; he was still a friend, however twisted the meaning of the word was in their case. Izaya realized the man was panicking by how vexed his voice sounded and by that annoying ramble reaching his ear and he would have sighed with relief if the pain had let him; now that someone was worrying over him he could stop struggling on his own and surrender control to someone who would know what to do with his bruised and bleeding body. But something didn’t feel right. He hadn’t registered the words he had heard, it was nothing but noise in his ear. But there was something there that had made his skin crawl. He replayed the message in his mind carefully – and that’s when he realized his friend had said the magic word: the beast’s name. He had no idea where he found the energy to speak up, loud and clear enough for Shinra to stop in his tracks as he was reaching for the telephone to notify Celty.

 

“Wait! Don’t... Don’t call her. No need… to bother her… I’ll just… get a taxi”

 

Shinra was dumbstruck. A moment ago Izaya couldn’t breathe a word and now he was speaking loud and clear, even if somewhat breathless. Not that it would be the first time he was screwing around, but his voice truly did sound strained.

 

“Are you sure? She’s not busy-”

 

“I’m sure… Don’t worry”

 

He had long given up trying to make sense of Izaya. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed as he spoke in his mobile.

 

“Fine. I’ll be waiting for you”

 

Izaya let the phone slip from his fingers to the floor. He rolled on his back, bending his knees to allow his body to remain as doubled over as possible; it was the only way to fight back the pain. The ceiling was staring back at him, stern and austere. Life was being humorous that night. He chuckled bitterly and let it grow slowly into distraught laughter. The pain got to him but he refused to stop those agonizing vibrations. He arched his back instead, and when that didn’t work he rolled back to his side, bringing his knees closer to his chest, clasping them in his arms and squeezing them tight, until he couldn’t feel his limbs at all. He laughed and laughed and laughed, feeling the pain tear at his chest and his eyes water, until there was nothing left but a string of defeated sharp exhales - they could easily be mistaken for sobs.

 


	11. A friend in need 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What happened?”, he finally asked.
> 
> “He asked me to bring him here”, the answer came from the stranger.

Shinra kept pacing up and down the living room impatiently. Occasionally, he’d take his mobile in his hands and ponder over texting Celty to go check on the informant. He repeatedly rejected the idea; he couldn’t be sure Izaya was in his apartment, and from what Celty had texted him, Shizuo himself seemed to need help, for whatever reason. After all, Izaya had reassured him that he could get there on his own - no matter what, he was not the kind of man to put his life in danger in order not to inconvenience others. When a good half-hour had passed without any signs of life from him though, he threw a few things in his doctor’s bag (a collection of medicine and materials capable to cover a variety of situations, from a bad cold to a gun shot wound – although he was seriously hoping the latter was not the case), grabbed his coat and keys and reached for the door, typing a message for Celty to come pick him up and take him to Shinjuku immediately. Depending on the situation, taking care of the man away from his proper base where he would have access to anything he needed could prove anything from bothersome to impossible. Staying there when Izaya might be in grave danger though, was even worse of an option.

 

He was just about to press ‘send’ as he flung the door open only to come face to face with the most bizarre sight; a middle-aged man, too commonly dressed to be a member of the underworld and too common looking to be a bodyguard or anyone his friend would ever bother recruit for his dirty business, was standing right at his doorstep, one arm wrapped tightly around Izaya’s slim waist, the other one reaching for the doorbell. The informant himself seemed to be unconscious.

 

“What the…?”

 

Shinra didn’t waste any time; he dropped his bag, coat and phone and grabbed Izaya’s face, pulling it up to examine him in the light. The sight made him gape; all he could see was black and red. Izaya struggled to flutter his eyes half-open and raise his arm, the one that was not thrown around the stranger’s shoulders, towards his friend. Shinra’s eyes, wide with confusion, darted from one man to the other, silently looking for an explanation.

 

“What happened?”, he finally asked.

 

“He asked me to bring him here”, the answer came from the stranger.

 

He couldn’t help but frown; none of this made sense. However, the man seemed rather impatient to go and Shinra was more than glad to have him disappear from in front of his apartment. He slid his arms under Izaya’s armpits and held him tight against his body as he slammed the door shut; he was freezing cold, his hair was wet, and the iron scent of blood was so strong Shinra felt his stomach churn. From the way he looked, he was certain his friend had suffered major blood loss. He couldn’t see that much blood though; there was no trail left behind him, which would have been the case if he had been stabbed or shot, and the bleeding on his face was ugly but not that bad. Seeing as the only part of his body that was not covered by clothes was painfully black and blue, Shinra could only guess that he had been severely beaten up. _In which case the bleeding could be internal._ He felt himself panicking at the thought; if it really was internal then there wouldn’t be much he could do at such short notice, without any preparation for such surgery and without any help. To make matters worse, Izaya was hardly conscious and a trip to the hospital could easily prove fatal. He pushed the man’s back against the wall, trying to get a better hold of him so as to take him to the room in the back, the one he used for his patients, but that made him gasp and clench his fists in Shinra’s shirt. A wave of relief washed over him; so he wasn’t unconscious after all - maybe just worn out from the pain. He tried to pull away, only enough to look at his friend’s face, but Izaya was desperately holding on to him, burying his face in Shinra’s chest.

 

“Izaya, can you hear me?” No answer came but he went on anyway. “I need you to help me get you to the back room. I need to have a look at your injuries”. He felt the man struggle to speak with his face pressed tight against his chest and gave him some time, but all that came out of the torn lips was a painful stutter that sounded something like “ _hurts_ ”. He sighed and wrapped his arm around his friend’s shoulders pulling him from the wall. He then shifted it around his waist, taking note of Izaya’s protesting whimpers and carefully placing the man’s arm around his shoulders so as to better balance his weight, and carried him to the room with great effort.

 

He carried him straight to the bed – a proper hospital bed – at the far end of the large room and let him sit on it. He was going through the things he needed to do in his mind, just to keep himself calm – get him an IV, check for open wounds, other than the torn lips on Izaya’s face, internal bleeding ( _god, please no_ ) and broken bones, stitch the open wounds up to stop the bleeding and give him a blood transfusion – but it was all cut short the moment Izaya’s bottom touched the bed. He yelped and jumped back up, clenching his fists in Shinra’s shirt with more force than the doctor thought he was even capable of. He was shaking, his breath shallow and sharp, his face buried in the other’s shirt, putting all his energy on keeping himself off that bed. Shinra felt his heart sink as a lump formed in his throat. He silently wondered whether that was the main source of blood loss and hated himself for feeling somewhat relieved; if that was the case then perhaps he could rule out internal bleeding. He pushed Izaya off of him and helped him climb on the bed on his side. That seemed to hurt much less. He slipped his white doctor’s coat on, grabbed an IV bag from the drawers at the other side of the room, along with some gauge, cotton swabs, and a variety of needles and tiny bottles with medicine, and walked back to the bed, placing them on the side table to help Izaya out of his clothes.

 

He seemed to have been dressed by someone else; his t-shirt was inside out, his trousers carried no belt, and everything seemed to have been carelessly pulled on by someone who didn’t care much about Izaya feeling comfortable in them. Shinra removed the coat and the t-shirt and winced at the sight of the bruised skin. He couldn’t help but wonder what had caused this kind of extensive bruising – and the image of his friend lying on the floor and getting kicked in the back and chest by a mob popped up in his mind, forcing him to take a step back to clear his head. He noticed the bite on Izaya’s right shoulder. He was lying on his right side, slightly curled in on himself, so Shinra couldn’t see it very clearly, but it was there, and it looked painful. Whoever had done that had actually drawn blood; the skin was black around the teeth marks and swollen, a few beads of blood shining in the artificial light of the room. Shinra scanned the pale body with his eyes, noting the constant tremor. He took that step back towards the bed and tried to roll Izaya on his back, but the man kept protesting; the back of his head and his back seemed to hurt worse than anything. So Shinra rolled him all the way around, letting him lie on his left side with his back to the doctor, and froze at the site of the dried blood on the back of Izaya’s head. It seemed like a potential source of serious blood loss and Shinra was more than willing to forget his earlier suspicion that his friend might have been abused in other ways as well – he dreaded even thinking of the word. He slipped a pair of sterile gloves on, grabbed a cotton swab, applied some antiseptic on it, and proceeded to clean the wound and assess the extent of the damage. The moment the cotton swab came in contact with his skin though, Izaya jolted his head moaning in pain.

 

“I need you to stay still, I have to disinfect the wound”. He wasn’t certain Izaya was actually listening, but then again he wasn’t really trying to communicate; talking just relieved the pressure, somehow. But his friend surprised him again. He stuttered, with great difficulty and through pained, shallow breaths: “ _hurts_ ”. By now, that was all he’d heard the man say – twice - and that wasn’t a good sign. He managed to clean the wound enough to see that he’d need to stitch it up to stop the bleeding; unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be the main source of blood loss. Still, along with the swelling and the bruising on Izaya’s forehead, it could indicate a severe concussion. He took the bloody gloves off, rolled him on his back and held him down on the bed, ignoring his protests, then took out a small flashlight to check the dilation of his pupils at the same time trying to get him to speak.

 

“Did you pass out?”

 

Izaya was jerking his head violently, trying to escape the light that made his headache unbearable, and Shinra had to pin him down by his jaw, feeling bad about holding on to the bruised skin when even the slightest contact seemed to be incredibly painful.

 

“Did you pass out at all? Did you lose consciousness?” Izaya was still, however not because he was being cooperative; the pain seemed to have triggered terror, and he had frozen on the bed, eyes open wide but not really seeing, shaking pitifully. His pupils were fine. Shinra let go of the bruised jaw and grabbed Izaya’s trembling hands instead, pressed them lightly against his bruised chest leaning in closer to force the man to see him.

 

“Hey, it’s me”. A pair of eyes that reminded him nothing of the notorious informant focused on him wearily and a few moments later recognition seemed to settle in. “I need you to answer some questions for me, ok?” Izaya blinked in confirmation. “Good. Did you feel any nausea – did you vomit?” He blinked again and, pulling his right hand from Shinra’s, extended two fingers – the movement hurt his swollen wrist and the doctor noted one more injury to be taken care of. “Twice. Ok. Did you pass out?”

 

He tried to shake his head, wincing at the pain the open wound gave him as it rubbed against the bed, and muttered: “Slept…some”.

 

Shinra cursed under his breath. “You got your skull cracked open and then went home and slept? Damn you, Izaya, why didn’t you come straight to me?” He took a couple of deep breaths trying to calm himself down. Izaya might have been unconscious instead of asleep. In his condition, he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. “Do you remember how you got here?” He nodded tiredly. “That won’t do, I need you to tell me”. He felt bad about forcing him to speak when even breathing seemed to be painful, but had to check for memory loss. As Izaya struggled to spit out no more than one broken word with every short exhale of air, Shinra started feeling his chest and sides for broken ribs, causing him to wince and whimper every once in a while.

 

“Hang… up… saw… card… he… said… don’t … … ugh… hesitate…”

 

He wasn’t making any sense, but at least he seemed to truly remember. “Go on”.

 

“G-give… me… ugh… some-mph… some-thing… …pain”

 

It wasn’t hard to understand what he was asking for. Shinra wished he could do something for the pain, but he needed Izaya to be able to feel it so as to guide him.

 

“I’m really sorry, but I can’t. Not yet. I have to check for broken bones first, I need to rule out internal bleeding as well. You have difficulty breathing, does your chest hurt somewhere in particular?” Izaya’s attempt to shake his head was pitiful, but it was enough. Shinra couldn’t feel any broken ribs either. He rolled him on his stomach to check his back as well; the bruising was much worse there. That’s when he noticed the blood on the sheet. It had undoubtedly seeped through the black trousers. He sighed and did his best to finish feeling for fractures as fast as possible. When he reached the upper part of Izaya’s right side he heard him moan loudly in pain. And then his expert fingers felt a bone buckle faintly.

 

There wasn’t much he could do for a broken rib. On the plus side, he couldn’t see any signs of internal bleeding and he now had every reason to believe that the blood loss was due to rectal bleeding. That should be easier to deal with. He rolled Izaya on his back again and felt his abdomen for any swelling. There was no swelling but his lower abdomen seemed to hurt quite bad, if the squirming and the groaning were any indication. It was something to be expected in case of sexual abuse. Shinra cringed.

 

“Any blood in your vomit?”

 

“… no …”

 

“Do you remember how this happened to you?”

 

The question seemed to rekindle the flame in Izaya’s eyes. He looked straight at Shinra, his gaze firm, but didn’t reply. There was no doubt he could remember. It was a very unsettling gaze and Shinra had to look away after a moment. He started to remove the man’s trousers but before he had even undone his button Izaya pushed his hands away – with very little force, but still the gesture was enough to stop him.

 

“D-don’t”

 

Shinra looked up at him in disbelief. He was a proud man, undoubtedly, but he’d never been particularly self-conscious; not the kind of person to act shy, or to feel shame – especially for something he had had not control over.

 

“I need to stop the bleeding”

 

Izaya shut his eyes but he was obviously tense. Shinra couldn’t help wondering what was going on in his mind.

 

“Fix… my… head”

 

He chuckled, in spite of himself. “If only I could!”

 

Izaya looked up surprised and then started to laugh. But the pain made him groan and double up instead, bending his knees and pressing his hands against his chest. Shinra grabbed the bony hands and pinned them to the bed, on his friend’s sides, worried that the pressure and the abrupt movements would cause the broken rib to move inside him, maybe even injure his lung. He stayed there, looming over him, until the fit of pain subsided and Izaya relaxed a bit. Then he loosened his grip on the man’s hands, not letting go entirely, and spoke up in a very smooth – almost condescending – tone.

 

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but rectal bleeding is very dangerous and potentially life threatening. I just-”

 

“Say… another… word… and I’ll… cut… your tongue… off”

 

The empty threat sounded funny coming from the bruised and bleeding man sprawled out on a hospital bed. Shinra refrained from smiling and thought of a more cunning way to persuade his friend.

 

“I don’t know who did this to you, but I’m sure you have already come up with an appropriate revenge. Wouldn’t you like to live long enough to see them suffer?”

 

It was a good call. Izaya looked him straight in the eyes and determination glowed in his fiery black irises. It was an ugly look, but if it served Shinra’s goal to get the man to accept help, then he would put up with it, fuel it if necessary.

 

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ve seen worse”. He wasn’t, but it didn’t matter.

 

Izaya nodded slowly and let him remove the bloody trousers. Whoever had dressed him hadn’t bothered with underwear or socks. Shinra turned him on his stomach and felt like he’d been bled dry himself as he looked down at all the blood. He slipped a new pair of gloves on and with a cotton swab in his hand tried to assess the extent of the damage once again. Izaya squirmed, and jerked, and groaned, and whimpered… while Shinra felt a number of knots in his stomach as he contemplated how much pain the man must have been in. He tried to wipe away the blood, but there was more coming out; Izaya’s rectum was badly torn and needed to be stitched up immediately. Shinra felt an immense weight on his shoulders. He placed a new cotton swab between the man’s buttocks, pressing it lightly against his torn entrance, inserted the IV needle in his hand giving him a mild painkiller which would lull the pain, but not enough to let him fall asleep (Shinra wasn’t sure he’d wake up again if he did), and called his contact in one of the hospitals he often worked with to ask for 10 units of blood – he already knew Izaya’s blood type. It was a lot, it could get him in trouble, and Izaya might not even need that much, but he needed to be sure and he needed it to be ready for pick-up **NOW**. He covered his friend’s bruised body with a robe and a sheet, and asked him to try and stay awake before walking out of the room. He needed to sit down and take a breath of fresh air. Reaching the living room he collapsed on the couch and then texted Celty to get to the hospital and bring him the blood without any delay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a very long - long, long, long - chapter which is mostly just Izaya and Shinra: Izaya's recovery and their somewhat complicated friendship. Now, I love dialogue and I love complicated friendships and I might have gotten a bit carried away and made it too long - I'd like to think it's still interesting :) So, instead of posting it all at once - and boring you people out - I thought I'd just cut it down into smaller chapters instead. They'll all go under the same title. Enjoy!


	12. A friend in need 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then she witnessed a scene she never would have imagined possible.

It took Celty 10 minutes to arrive to the apartment where she lived with Shinra, carrying the bag she had picked up at the hospital. In that time Shinra had checked on Izaya twice, making sure he was still conscious and changing the blood soaked cotton swab with a clean one. When she walked in the apartment, she found him half-lying in the couch, with his doctor’s coat stained with blood, his face somber and pale like a sheet. She would have dropped the bag right there if she hadn’t been warned to handle it with care. Instead, she walked straight to the couch, carefully placing the bag on the coffee table, and tapped rapidly on her PDA.

 

[What happened?]

 

[Are you ok?]

 

Shinra waved her worries off with a tired smile. “I’m fine, my dear Celty. I’m so glad to see you”, and he pulled her down on the couch, right next to him. “Wait for me here, I’ll be back in a minute”. He got up, took the bag and walked to the back room to get the blood transfusion going; time was ticking. Ignoring her bad feeling, she did as he asked her and waited patiently for him. When Shinra returned to the living room, he looked even more tired than before.

 

“I need you to help me”. She started tapping on the PDA but he stopped her. “Just listen to me first. Izaya’s here. He needs help. I’m giving him blood but that won’t do much good until I stitch him up. And that’s what I need your help for”.

 

She felt her shadows oozing out of her suit for the second time that night, but for a very different reason. She knew nothing of medicine, she’d never helped Shinra with his patients before, and this didn’t sound like a good time to start.

 

“Don’t worry, all I need from you is to hold him down”.

 

Her shadows resolved into thin air at that statement.

 

[Will you not sedate him?]

 

The question seemed to exhaust Shinra who just slumped down on the couch, sighing regretfully.

 

“I can’t use general anesthesia. He’s lost a lot of blood and he has a severe concussion. I can’t risk sedating him. I don’t have the means to check on his vitals while he’s sedated, let alone deal with any complications. Not here”. Shinra didn’t perform surgeries in the apartment. He could tend to a number of incidents in that room, but surgeries were always performed in private clinics – most of them illegal. “I’ll give him local anesthesia, but he’ll still be able to feel a great deal of pain – I think. His tissue is badly damaged. I can’t have him squirming about when I’m stitching up his anus; if he so much as twitches, I might end up doing him more harm than good”.

 

Celty was speechless. He could tell just by looking at her - and that’s when he realized he had given out more information than he intended to. She didn’t have to know what the problem was, not before she’d agreed to help him.

 

“Don’t ask. Just help me out here”.

 

[Take him to a hospital. They’ll be able to do it right]

 

He shook his head tiredly, “I can’t. Can’t waste any time taking him to a hospital”, and then chuckled, amused by his own thought. “If I took him to a hospital and he somehow managed to survive he’d kill me – slowly and painfully! He wouldn’t want word to get out”.

 

She didn’t find it funny at all. It was obvious that Shinra was worried though, and he really needed her help. Besides, no matter how much she disliked the informant, she didn’t want anything happening to him. So she agreed to help.

 

Shinra did his best to explain the situation to Izaya; to make him understand that he’d need to stay perfectly still and relaxed throughout the procedure. Despite the pain, he seemed to be fairly lucid. Celty stood by, wrapping her shadows firmly around Izaya’s waist and legs, holding him down on the bed while Shinra prepared the materials he’d need. The whole procedure lasted just under half an hour; a lot longer than either of them had expected. Izaya couldn’t move the way he was pinned down by the cold dark matter, but he’d still clench his muscles unintentionally every time the pain got to him, slowing it all down, forcing Shinra to stop and wait for his friend to relax again. Local anesthesia numbed the area, but as Shinra kept probing further inside him the pain got intense enough to knock Izaya out - as expected, his passing out sent a wave of panic in the room. Celty felt helpless standing by and watching Shinra desperately trying to wake him up. She couldn’t help but wonder whether it would really be that dangerous to just let him be; as long as he was out, Shinra could finish stitching him up easily and the informant himself wouldn’t have to feel any pain. She didn’t question him though, she had no doubt he was doing the best he could. A few long moments later, Izaya woke up with a low, heartbreaking moan. And then she witnessed a scene she never would have imagined possible.

 

Shinra tenderly brushed away the damp bangs from Izaya’s sweaty forehead, and spoke to him very smoothly, carefully petting his temple. “I know it hurts, but I need you to bear with me for just a little longer”. Izaya’s reply was a whimper and his fist clenched in the bed sheet. “I’m almost done. I promise it won’t take long”. He kept silent for a moment, waiting for some kind of response. When he didn’t receive any he went on. “The _great_ Orihara Izaya cannot be defeated by a bit of pain, right?” It sounded like a taunt, but Shinra had spoken the words with the outmost affection. Izaya’s eyes flew open at the challenge. He searched Shinra’s expression for a moment, before unclenching his fist and clumsily brushing away the hand that was stroking his temple. Shinra smiled. “Good”.

 

Neither of the men acknowledged her presence after that scene. Shinra went back to his work without another word and Izaya clenched his fists in the bed sheet but kept his eyes open. When it was finally over, she released her shadows and walked out of the room as soon as the doctor nodded at her. She had always been the one to nag Shinra, even as a child, about forming relationships with other human beings; the man himself had never seemed interested in other people. She knew they were friends, but she’d never had any doubt that their friendship held a very different meaning to the commonly accepted one. She’d always thought there was no affection between them - just a number of shared memories that made them call each other a ‘friend’. What she had just witnessed though, was undoubtedly a moment of caring – if only with a touch of manipulation in it, but it seemed necessary. She’d never felt so proud of Shinra. She would have preferred him to have chosen a different human being to care for, but Izaya would have to do.

 

Shinra proceeded to stitch up the wound on the back of Izaya’s head, dressing it with gauge so as to protect it from rubbing against the bed, and then his torn lips, bandage his swollen wrist, disinfect and bandage the bite on Izaya’s shoulder, and help him in a clean robe. He covered him with a clean sheet and a warm blanket and checked his vitals. With the second unit of blood being supplied to his veins, he’d already started looking better. He was still freezing cold and couldn’t stop shaking, but Shinra was hoping by the time his body would have been provided with the blood it’d lost, he would go back to normal. When he was finally satisfied with everything, he stood over the bed, looking down at his friend until the latter opened his eyes, sensing the doctor’s looming presence.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

“G-nh, … g-great...”

 

“Good”

 

“’r you…nnh… sh-short… on p-…pain-uh-killers?”

 

Shinra smiled; a smile so soft it stroked the bruised skin and the damp hair, lingering on his friend’s eyes which were now squeezed shut again. It was surprisingly good to have him back.

 

“I’m just taking my precautions. Bear with it for another half hour; I’ll give you another unit of blood soon. I’ll let you sleep after that”. He left the room only to return a few moments later with an icepack. He pulled the blanket down to Izaya’s things and asked him to raise his hips. Shinra’s expression didn’t waver at all when the man opened his eyes to give him an incredulous look. Watching him struggle to raise his hips by only just an inch, the doctor felt his heart leap with joy. It was no coincidence that the informant was so feared; he didn’t look it but he was strong - and his stubbornness only ever made him stronger. He placed the icepack underneath Izaya’s bottom and covered him with the blanket again, noting his discomfort. “It’s uncomfortable, but it will help with the pain and the swelling”. He watched him struggle to relax for a bit, taking short, pained breaths. “What on earth happened to you, Izaya? Did you get mobbed or something?”

 

Izaya made a pitiful attempt at laughing but ended up going into another fit of pain, clenching his fists in the blanket. He spoke through his teeth, creasing his forehead at the effort. “As if… … … No one… can c-catch me… unless I, nhh, w-want them… to”.

 

“You mean to tell me that you wanted this to happen?” He was not shocked – his tone was actually reproachful. It wasn’t all that hard for him to believe that Izaya had willingly put himself in danger. It wouldn’t be the first time.

 

“It was j-just… a uh…game… Shinra-nh…and I … won”, the torn corner of his lips curled up in a smirk – “ _you wouldn’t be so smug if the anesthetic hadn’t numbed the pain”,_ Shinra thought to himself _._ He had no idea what to make of this game thing, but it was obvious that he wouldn’t be able to have a conversation with him, not just yet. So he just sighed and started cleaning up the room, mumbling:

 

“It doesn’t look like you did”.

 

***

 

When Shinra finally emerged from the room, Celty was waiting for him in the living room. He collapsed down on the couch with a sigh and when she approached him, he buried his face in her suit, wrapping his arms around her waist.

 

“Let me hold you for a while, please”.

 

She hesitated for a second but then drew her slender fingers through his hair, feeling the slight tremor in his hands. They stayed like that for a while, until Shinra pulled away, taking off his glasses to wipe them with his shirt. That’s when he realized that it was also stained with blood; from Izaya’s lips, when he had buried his face in Shinra’s chest earlier. He sighed resignedly.

 

“I don’t care how much harm he’s done in his life. He didn’t deserve this”.

 

Celty felt that she could argue with that. She didn’t want anyone getting hurt - but did Izaya deserve to suffer? She could not judge him, but she was well aware of the fact that a few people had suffered because of him in the past. Had _they_ deserved it? She didn’t share any of her thoughts with Shinra though, he was distressed enough the way it was. She just sat next to him and tapped on her PDA before showing it to him.

 

[Go get some rest, you look exhausted]

 

He shook his head, putting his glasses back on.

 

“Can’t. I have to wake him up every couple of hours, to make sure he doesn’t fall in a coma. A concussion can be very dangerous. He seems to be ok, but you never know”

 

[I can check on him], she wasn’t sure what she’d have to do, but she still offered.

 

“Thank you, Celty, but I need to do this myself”

 

[You look like you haven’t slept all night]

 

“That’s because I haven’t; I was up waiting for you. How’s Shizuo, by the way?”

 

[I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong with him, but he looked very upset]

 

Shinra turned to look at her incredulously.

 

“You stayed out all night because he looked…upset?!”

 

[I know it sounds silly, but it looked like he wanted to harm himself]

 

Shinra sighed tiredly. “Well, self-loathing isn’t new to him… To either of them, actually”.

 

***

 

It was already dark outside when Izaya finally seemed to come round. Shinra had been checking on him every two hours and by the evening he was reassured that everything would be ok. His breathing was still a bit shallow, but the painkillers had helped a lot, allowing him to breathe more or less normally, and he had a fever, but that was just his body’s normal reaction to the pain and the injuries. In any case, he was on a strong anti inflammatory treatment, so he should be fine. The moment Shinra walked in the room, Izaya turned his head to look at him.

 

“Look who’s back from the dead!”

 

“You won’t - get rid of me - that easily”. He spoke slowly and quietly - his voice hushed to the point of being just a strained whisper – with short breaks every few words to take a breath.

 

“I wouldn’t have gone into all this trouble, if I wanted to get rid of you”, Shinra leaned over him, checking the IV and feeling for his pulse.

 

“Would you - like me - to express my - eternal gratitude, - then?”

 

“I’m not interested in platitudes, thank you very much. Not from you”. He pulled back a bit and looked at his friend who was creasing his forehead, apparently suffering a severe headache.

 

“My head – ‘s pounding”

 

“That’s to be expected, it got banged quite hard”

 

Izaya fixed his eyes on the doctor’s face and studied him for a moment.

 

“You look - terrible”

 

“I was up, looking after you, all day long”

 

“Well, - I’m touched”

 

Shinra smiled, despite himself.

 

“I would never even dream of it. How’s your breathing?”

 

“Hurts”

 

“You have a broken rib, but I think that’s all. Your chest and back are badly bruised, it’s the pain that makes you feel breathless. The painkillers seem to help”

 

Izaya didn’t comment. He shut his eyes and pushed the blanket off his chest. Shinra pulled it back up without a word.

 

“It’s too - hot”

 

“No, it’s not. You’re just burning up. Leave the blanket alone, I don’t want you catching a cold”

 

“Can I – have - some water?”

 

“Sure”. There was a side table by the door, where Shinra had left a jug and a glass just a few hours ago. He filled the glass with water from the jug and brought it to Izaya, helping him sit up on the bed. The sift of his weight caused him to moan loudly and he would have slumped back down if Shinra wasn’t holding him up. He helped him with the glass, but Izaya’s throat was still soar and he almost chocked on the water. He didn’t manage to drink more than a couple of sips before he was drained of energy again, and Shinra laid him back down, placing the glass on the side table by the bed.

 

“You want to tell me what happened now?”

 

“Nothing - happened”, Izaya kept his eyes shut.

 

“I will keep asking you, you know”

 

“I mis - calculated, - that’s all. It - wasn’t - the first time”

 

“It was the first time you were brought to me drenched in your own blood”

 

Izaya cringed.

 

“Are you - trying - to be d- disgusting?”

 

“I had my face stuck in your ass for almost half an hour, how’s that for disgusting?”

 

“I think - you enjoyed it”

 

“It’s not funny, Izaya. You could have died”

 

“Only I didn’t”

 

Shinra grudgingly pulled a stool by the bed to sit on and kept quiet for a while.

 

“Who was the guy who brought you here?”

 

“Just some - taxi driver”

 

“You actually got a taxi?’ he was dumbfounded. But Izaya chuckled, obviously amused by the doctor’s confusion.

 

“He was - the one who - took me home - in the first place… He got a - generous tip for it - gave me his card… People will do - anything for the right price”

 

Although he didn’t necessarily disagree, Shinra disliked the smugness that had reemerged in his friend’s expression.

 

“Not all of them”

 

“Yes, - all of them… Money is not the - only currency, - Shinra”

 

“And how on earth did he get in your apartment?”

 

Izaya smiled mischievously.

 

“He paid Namie - a visit first; I - texted her - to give him her key… She’ll make my life - hell for this!” The thought seemed to entertain him. Shinra shook his head in disappointment.

 

“Celty would have brought you here much faster”

 

“Perhaps… Don’t sulk, - I’m fine… I didn’t ruin - Celty’s _chitchat_ … And this guy can - now afford to - take the rest of the month off - if he wants to”

 

Shinra watched him for a moment; his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, his hands resting on his sides. He was trying to look relaxed, but was obviously tense. The way he had spat the word ‘chitchat’, Shinra felt certain he knew what had riled him up.

 

“She wouldn’t have told him, you know”

 

Izaya’s reaction proved him right; his mouth twisted in a scornful smile which was cut short by the pain in his stitched lips and he turned his face to the wall.

 

“Yes… she would have”

 

“In which case, he probably wouldn’t have cared”

 

Izaya shut his eyes only for a split second before turning to look at Shinra. His expression was unreadable.

 

“You’re right… Can we - not talk about this - now?”

 

Shinra nodded timidly. The informant’s eyes had a very scary look on them; mentioning his worst enemy when he was immobilized in bed like that was at least inconsiderate.

 

“Maybe I should just let you rest then”

 

He received no reply. Izaya’s gaze had drifted to the ceiling again and he seemed to be drifting away in his thoughts. Shinra silently walked to the door, but before he’d left the room he heard his friend’s voice again.

 

“Could you - open the blinds - for me?”

 

He turned around to look at him, wondering if this was a sign of disorientation, if perhaps he thought it was still morning, but Izaya’s gaze was still fixed on the ceiling above him.

 

“It’s late – there’s no sun, just the city lights”

 

“I know... Could you open them - for me?”

 

“Sure”

 

He opened the blinds reluctantly and left the room without another word. Izaya was burning holes through the ceiling; he didn’t even bother to thank him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'd like to see a bit of Shizuo in the next chapter, before I go back to Shinra-Izaya, so it will take longer to update - that's why I thought I should just get this one out there first. And I also wanted to make clear that I'm not shipping Shinra-Izaya here, I dislike fics where every single character has a crush on Izaya - although they obviously should :)


	13. A friend in need 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya’s defiant expression wavered for only just a moment. “I’m not a baby to be spoon-fed”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember last time I said I'd like to see a bit of Shizuo in the next chapter? Well, it turns out Shizuo doesn't inspire me much at this particular point of the story. So I edited this instead. We'll see Ikebukuro's monster again soon, but not just yet! :)

The first night was very quiet. Izaya, pumped with painkillers, slept until late in the morning. Shinra was exhausted himself, so, even though he’d been meaning to check up on him every once in a while, he ended up doing so only twice; once before he went to bed himself and the second time when he woke up, late in the morning. When he walked into the room that second time, he found his friend curled in on himself, his fingers desperately latched on the blanket, the gown he was wearing soaked in sweat; Izaya’s sleep was anything but peaceful. Shinra tried to shift him gently, so that he was lying on his back, but that knocked Izaya out of his sleep and he woke up with a jolt that sent him into yet another fit of pain; teeth clenched, eyes squeezed shut, hands rolled into fists pressed hard against his chest. The doctor held him down by his arms until his skinny body finally relaxed and slumped down on the bed. Shinra let go and gave him a few minutes to calm down before speaking.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

“Like I’ve been hit by a bus”, Izaya slurred a bit, due to the pain in his badly bruised jaw, and squinted, the sunlight clearly hurting his eyes and intensifying the throbbing headache. His breathing was more even, but still shallow and painful; forced him to speak very slowly and in a hushed voice.

 

Despite being worried, Shinra couldn’t help laughing out loud leaning against the bed, and he spoke the next words without even realizing it.

 

“Well, maybe next time you’ll think twice before tricking Shizuo into getti-”

 

“Can you stop mentioning _the monster_ all the time?” His eyes were shut again and he was furrowing his brow, fingers fidgeting at the top end of the blanket. Shinra realized his mistake and smiled apologetically, even though Izaya wasn’t looking.

 

“Sorry. He’d never hurt you in this condition though, no need to worry. No matter what you think of him, he’s a good man”. Perhaps this was the wrong time to try and talk some sense to him, but fearing Shizuo was irrational; he was not the kind of man to hit someone when they’re down. Izaya didn’t seem to want to hear any of this, though. He pushed the blanket off of him, refusing to open his eyes.

 

“I want to go home”

 

“You will. When you feel better… Your gown is soaked, we should get you changed” and he walked to the cupboard at the other side of the room to get a clean one, turning his back to the bed. He heard the rustling of the sheets, but by the time he turned around it was already late; Izaya had kicked the blanket and the sheet off of him, shifted his weight to his side wincing at the pain, and was about to jump off the bed. Shinra’s inarticulate cry didn’t stop him. He landed flat on the floor, doubled up and writhing in pain, Shinra running by his side a moment too late. The doctor anxiously pulled him up and laid him down on the bed, fishing his stethoscope out of his coat’s pocket to listen to his friend’s lungs.

 

“ **ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?** ” and as Izaya kept squirming about, Shinra pinned him down by his left shoulder, fumbling with the stethoscope and shouting “ **STAY STILL AND TAKE A DEEP BREATH!** ” Then he helped him up, ignoring his groans, and run the stethoscope across his back as well. When he was done he laid him back down, not as gently as he would have done under different circumstances, mumbling “thank god, it doesn’t sound like you injured your lung”. He then went back to the cupboard and brought a clean gown and a towel. He tugged on the sweat soaked gown rather carelessly, causing Izaya to wince and whimper at the pain, and dried his friend’s sweaty body with the towel – a bit roughly. When he tried to help him in the clean gown though, Izaya protested.

 

“Can I at least have some proper clothes? This is a hospital gown… I’m not sick”

 

Thanks to Izaya’s dive from the bed though, Shinra was not in the mood to negotiate. “As a matter of fact, you are. The gown gives me easier access to your wounds” – his tone steely. Izaya looked at him, squinting to focus on the man’s face.

 

“You’re mad at me”. Shinra didn’t even bother reply; he pretended to be too busy helping him in the gown. “Let me go home”.

 

After he had finally managed to pull the gown on, Shinra covered Izaya with the sheet and the blanket again, and took a deep breath, leaning against the bed and looking down at his friend.

 

“You _cannot_ go home yet. You can’t even stand on your own two feet, who’ll look after you?”

 

The words didn’t please him at all; he shut his eyes and shook his head stubbornly as he replied, his voice almost a whisper: “What do you care?”

 

The expression seemed familiar, even though Shinra had never really witnessed it before on Izaya’s face; he had the feeling he’d been watching it for years, staring back at him underneath that impervious façade. It was bitterness. He sighed as he leaned over his friend, carefully bringing a hand up to squeeze on the man’s left shoulder, one of the few parts of his body that was not wounded or bruised. “Sorry to burst the bubble for you, Izaya, but _there are_ people who actually care about you”.

 

The large black irises were hesitantly revealed beneath heavy eyelids. They looked straight in Shinra’s eyes, searching for something, before they disappeared again, thoroughly amused by either the presence or the absence of whatever it was that they’d been looking for; there was no way of knowing which of the two. He chuckled breathlessly, creasing his forehead at the pain the sharp exhale caused him, and turned his face to the wall to avoid the sunlight.

 

“You don’t care about anyone, Shinra. Except for that monstrous girlfriend of yours!”

 

“Don’t talk like that about Celty”. The sound of his voice was too soft for this to count as a reprimand. Izaya kept his face turned to the wall, his lips twisted in a painful, yet persistent smirk. They stayed like that for a few moments, until Shinra withdrew his hand.

 

“Did you sleep well?”

 

Izaya’s face relaxed a bit, the smirk disappearing and tiredness settling in. “Not really”.

 

“Did the pain keep you up?”

 

“…Not really…”

 

“Nightmares, then?”

 

Izaya shook his head slowly before turning his face to Shinra, not opening his eyes just yet. “Not… exactly. Just… restless dreams”. The doctor had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but he didn’t comment; there was nothing he could do about dreams, anyway. Izaya opened his eyes reluctantly, dreading the painful sunlight, and looked at his friend. “Can’t you do something for the headache? I can’t concentrate”.

 

“Well, you don’t _need_ to concentrate on anything. Other than getting well, of course”, and he flashed a playful smile, but Izaya frowned, shutting his eyes again.

 

“I think… I might bang my head on the wall…”

 

“That’s only going to make things worse”, he almost enjoyed the silly threat.

 

“…or pluck my eyes out with a spoon…”

 

“Hahaha! I won’t stop you! It will be the perfect chance to examine these unique reddish irises of yours!” He enjoyed Izaya’s frustration for just a little bit longer, before speaking up again. “Is it that bad, the headache?”

 

“It’s… pounding… and heavy… like someone’s crushing my head with a pipe wrench…” -Shinra smiled at the simile, his smile going unnoticed by Izaya who kept his eyes closed - “…there’s this stabbing pain in my eye sockets… and my jaw feels almost numb… it’s so bad it makes me feel sick”.

 

“Is it just your head?”

 

There was a hint of hesitation in the way he swallowed before answering. “No”.

 

Shinra waited for a moment, expecting his friend to elaborate; but Izaya didn’t seem to be willing to say anything else. “Do the stitches hurt as well?” The informant just nodded.

 

“I can give you a more potent painkiller - a narcotic actually - but there’s a good chance it will cause hallucinations”.

 

“I don’t care, just make the pain go away”. The way he moaned the words, Shinra felt his heart sink. However, it was important that Izaya understood and took the risk of hallucinations seriously.

 

“Hallucinations are no less torturous, you know. Especially after a traumatic experience -”, he would have gone on to name the traumatic experience Izaya had been through, if the man’s eyes hadn’t popped open, glowing with fury.

 

“ _What_ traumatic experience are you talking about?”, his voice an icy staccato. Shinra had no doubt that admitting the fact was the first step to getting better – he was no expert himself, but he’d heard it a few times in his life and never doubted it – but perhaps he could let him be for just another day. He nodded blankly before getting up and going to look for the new painkillers in the cupboard. He went through a few bottles before turning to ask:

 

“Do you think you could make an attempt to eat some today? That way I can just give you the pills”, and he shook a bottle of pills in his hand - but Izaya seemed disheartened.

 

“I don’t feel like I could”. Shinra frowned, almost scolding him with his eyes.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with your stomach, you know. The sickness is because of the concussion and the pain” – _and the shock,_ he wanted to add, but chose not to – “so I’ll just make sure I cook you something light today, and you’ll make an effort to eat it”.

 

Arguing wouldn’t help; Izaya already knew it. Like all doctors, Shinra was impervious to others’ pain and discomfort, always shrugging it off with a disinterested _‘you’re fine’_. Replying, or even nodding consent, was thus unnecessary; he was glad the man had even bothered to change his painkillers. Shinra took his temperature, taking notes on a board just like the ones they use in hospitals, and then checked his pulse. When he was finally done, Izaya spoke up again.

 

“Do you have a hand mirror?”

 

Shinra studied him expressionless for a moment. “What do you need a hand mirror for?”

 

Instead of replying, Izaya brought a hand up to his face, to explore the swelling on his forehead and the stitches on his lips. Shinra hummed thoughtfully.

 

“You’re just as dazzling as ever!” Not only his voice, but also his eyes held a taunting glimmer in them; however Izaya was unfazed by it.

 

“Let me see”

 

“There’s nothing to see”

 

“Let – me – see”

 

If he could shout, Shinra felt sure Izaya would have. Nothing good could come out of him studying his wounds in a mirror, that much he knew, however he couldn’t really refuse; it was his face, and if he wanted to see it, he had the right to see it. He took a mirror from one of the drawers and brought it to him, holding it up so that Izaya could see his face in it, aware of the fact that the informant himself was still too weak to be able to even hold it up on his own. While Izaya studied himself in the mirror, Shirna observed him intently. The informant remained perfectly expressionless; his face as blank as a sheet. He watched himself quietly for a few moments, his eyes tracing the bruises from his neck, where the finger marks had turned a scattering black, all the way up to his forehead, which was swollen and a dark shade of black, briefly lingering on his jaw, the color of which looked nothing like human skin. Then he brought a hand up to feel the stitches on the left corner of his lips. “It will leave a scar, no?”

 

Shinra nodded regretfully; “It will”.

 

There were no traces of any kind of feeling in Izaya’s face as he pushed the mirror away from him. He shut his eyes and remained silent while Shinra returned the mirror back to the drawer, changed the IV bag and gave him his morning dosage of antibiotics through the intravenous cannula. He only spoke up again when he heard the doctor opening the door to exit the room and let him rest.

 

“Close the blinds, please”.

 

“It’s nice and sunny today. Are you sure you don’t want to enjoy a bit of sunlight?” He received no reply. Closing the blinds in the morning and opening them at night made no sense at all, but he granted his friend’s wish none the less – anything to make him feel better.

 

***

 

“There you go!”

 

What Shinra handed him with gleaming joy was a bowl of steamed brown rice. Izaya stared at it for a moment, before staring back at Shinra.

 

“Come on, you promised to make an effort to eat!”

 

He saw no point in arguing; he had never made such a promise. But the bowl of rice was there in his lap and the new, strong painkillers were staring at him from the other side of the room. So he just sighed, handing the bowl back to Shinra.

 

“Could you at least help me sit up first?”

 

“Oh, sorry, you’re right!” Shinra took the bowl and placed it on top of the side table which was right behind Izaya’s head, pulling it next to the bed so that he could have easier access to it. He then slid one arm under Izaya’s armpit, trying not to apply any pressure on his aching back, to help him better adjust to the shift of his weight, while pressing a button in the pendant control with his free hand, to raise the upper part of the bed. As Izaya’s upper body was raised along with the bed to bring him in a sitting position, the informant clenched a fist in the doctor’s coat letting out a loud groan. Shinra tried to pull some of the man’s weight up (it wasn’t that much, anyway) the way he was holding him across his back.

 

“Does it hurt too bad?”

 

Izaya hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes squeezed shut: “Fuc- …Y-yes!”

 

The doctor withdrew his arm - telling his friend to “hang on in there” - to straddle the distance to the cupboard and get another pillow. He brought it to the bed and, helping Izaya raise his hips, placed it underneath his bottom.

 

“That should be better… It would be even better if I had one of those donut cushions that patients with hemorrhoids use, but this will have to do”. Izaya glared at him, but Shinra was too busy tucking his friend in the blanket to even notice it. When he was done, he picked up the bowl from the side table and handed it over to Izaya again, who took it halfheartedly. “I brought you a spoon, instead of chopsticks, I thought it would be easier that way”. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be much help; Izaya’s right wrist was badly swollen and aching, and to make matters worse, he was still too weak, his arms shaking pitifully at the effort to keep them up and functioning. Shinra watched him quietly fumble with the spoon, first with his right hand and then with his left (which couldn’t operate the simple task of bringing the food from the bowl to his mouth half as well as his right one would have, had it not been injured), spilling rice all over himself and glaring at it as if it had deliberately chosen to plunge from the spoon, just to embarrass him. After a few failed tries, he sighed and stuck the spoon in the bowl, giving up. Shinra took it without a word and held a spoonful or rice to his friend’s mouth. But Izaya just glared at him. “It’s not like you to give up so easily”.

 

Izaya’s defiant expression wavered for only just a moment. “I’m not a baby to be spoon-fed”.

 

“If you want the stronger painkillers, you’ll have to eat, somehow”. His hand was still extended to Izaya’s mouth, steady. Izaya’s eyes went from the spoonful of rice in front of him, to the doctor’s face, until he finally opened his mouth and allowed the man to feed him. Shinra smiled contentedly and asked: “Is it good?”

 

“It’s just steamed rice, even _you_ couldn’t get that wrong!” Instead of taking offence, the doctor laughed goodheartedly as he continued to feed him, but it was only a couple of spoonfuls later that Izaya abruptly brought a hand up pressing his knuckles against his lips, causing Shinra to spill rice all over the clean gown and the blanket his friend was tucked in. “I think I’m going to be sick” – there was a hint of panic in his voice.

 

Shinra grabbed a small metallic basin from one of the cupboards at the other side of the room (which was clearly reserved for other uses, but that was irrelevant at that point), rapidly bringing it to Izaya who was doubled over himself by this point, the back of his hand pressed against his lips. Izaya latched his fingers on the edges of the basin, leaning over it but keeping his lips squeezed shut. “You need to try and keep the food down, otherwise there’s no point” – he was carefully keeping a hand inches behind his friend’s back, not touching him yet, but ready to support him immediately if needed, half-squatting by the bed to be on the same level with him. Izaya took a few breaths, as deep as he could, and relaxed gradually, letting his upper body fall against the bed again.

 

“I don’t think I can eat anymore”. Undoubtedly, he looked breathless and exhausted already, but Shinra wasn’t about to let him off so easily.

 

“Just another couple of spoonfuls and you can have two of those magic pills” he almost sung the words, nodding towards the direction of the bottle of painkillers. Izaya rolled his eyes, but eventually had some more of the rice before carelessly knocking over the bowl with an exasperated jolt.

 

“I’ve had more than enough! Either give me the painkillers or let me throw up already!”

 

“Alright, alright… no reason to get cranky”, Shinra waved off his friend’s frustration picking up the bowl and the spoon from the floor, sighing over the spilt rice. He brought two pills to Izaya and a glass of water from the kitchen, carrying a broom and a mop with him to clean up.

 

“I was thinking I should send Celty over to your apartment later on today, to bring you some clothes, and anything else you might need”.

 

“She could bring my laptop, that would be nice”.

 

Shinra stopped in his tracks as he was sweeping the rice from the floor, and turned around to glare at his friend who was fumbling with the pendant control to bring himself back to a much less painful lying position. “ **You are _not_ going to do any work, any time soon. You can hardly keep your eyes open in the sunlight and you want to spend your day staring at a computer screen?! No way! Not in my house!** ” Izaya was staring at him surprised, the pendant control in his hands, but Shinra just went on shouting at him. “ **All you’re going to do in the next few days is lie down, eat well, relax and get better. Understood?** ” His friend’s tone didn’t leave him any alternative but to nod submissively; it seemed to do the trick with Shinra as he immediately calmed down, his agreeable smile returning to his face. “Good! Some clothes and maybe a book, then?”

 

Izaya stared at him wearily. “You know, sometimes, I think you’re the scariest of all of us”.

 

Shinra smiled, clearly amused, and walked over to the bed, took the pendant control from his friend’s hands and, pressing a button, brought the bed back to the lying position. He then tucked Izaya in the blanket and looked down at him. “Only you’re scared of nothing and no one.” – a straight-out taunt – “The pills will kick in soon, I’ll let you rest. I’ll leave the pillow with you - if it gets uncomfortable I’m sure you can pull it from underneath you”. He handed him a kind of buzzer. “I’ll be around, if you need anything just press this button and I’ll come running to your service” – the overly suave smile on the doctor’s face made Izaya realize that this was just another taunt, but he took the buzzer without comments. Shinra mopped the floor and left without even glancing over at him.


	14. A friend in need 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shinra had always read more into that passionate mutual hatred of theirs than either of them would ever care to admit.

Just as Shinra had predicted, the new painkillers had rather torturous side-effects; Izaya spent the rest of that day drifting in and out of a tormenting delirium. He refused to change back to the less effective ones when Shinra suggested so, on the grounds that his mind was stronger than his body; he could fight back the memories, the nightmares, the lurking paranoia, but he simply couldn’t stand the pain. Being the only person who had ever been granted access to Izaya’s world – and that for practical reasons only, being a doctor, and an underground one -, Shinra couldn’t help but wonder since when pain had become undesirable. He didn’t voice his thoughts though, he just nodded and took on the task of waking him up every once in a while, when he’d start tossing violently with his fists clenched, moaning and whimpering and even crying some times. It was the crying that distressed him the most; he had never seen Izaya cry before, nor had he ever imagined him capable of such an honest human act. He’d grab him by the arms and shake him, shouting his name in his face, until his eyes finally flew open, black irises wide in terror gazing up at him. It took Izaya a few moments to snap out of it, and by the time he had, he’d just shrug Shinra’s hands off of him, slumping back down on the bed exhausted.

 

When Celty returned home late that night, she found Shinra in the back room. He had moved one of the armchairs from the living room by the wall opposite the bed where Izaya was lying asleep, and he was slouching in it, elbows propped on the armrests, his head resting on his hands, eyes fixed on Izaya’s restless figure. He didn’t even hear her coming in. Careful not to startle him, she walked slowly into his line of vision, cocking her helmet to the side in an expression of worry. Shinra looked up at her slowly and smiled; a sorrowful smile.

 

[Is he ok?]

 

He just nodded, keeping up his eerie smile, and then got up and walked out of the room, gesturing for her to follow him. They went to the living room, where she had left the bag of clothes she had picked up from Izaya’s apartment.

 

“Did you bring him any pajamas? I think he’d like to change into something more comfortable than the gown”.

 

The familiar up-beat quality was gone from his voice, and his eyes which always seemed to smile at her were now sullen. She tapped on her PDA anxiously.

 

[Are you ok?]

 

Shinra took one hasty look at the screen before opening the bag to examine its contents.

 

“Yes, he’s fine, just out from the pain killers”.

 

She withdrew the PDA and tapped on it some more, frustration causing her fingers to shake slightly.

 

[I’m not asking about Izaya! Are YOU ok?]

 

He glanced at the screen again, fishing a pair of black – what else! – pajamas out from the bag and then stared at her bewildered.

 

“Why, I’m fine! Why wouldn’t I?”

 

Her shoulders dropped and she stood there observing him for a moment. It seemed like he was drained of not only energy, but also joy and positive thoughts and everything that made him the lightheaded man she’d known all these years. She shook her helmet before tapping on the device again.

 

[There was blood everywhere in his bathroom, there was even some of it on the staircase to the second floor of his apartment. What happened to him?]

 

Shinra sighed reading the message. “I don’t know. He hasn’t told me and I don’t think he even wants to think about it right now”.

 

[But who could abuse him like that?]

 

“I don’t know, Celty. He messes with a lot of dangerous people, and no matter what he wants us thinking, he’s not invincible. I guess something like this was bound to happen sooner or later”.

 

[But how could anyone catch him off-guard like this?] The sight of all that blood had frustrated her almost as much as holding Izaya down the previous day had. It didn’t make sense; the informant was always a step ahead – maybe he wasn’t invincible, but he was certainly more perceptive than most people out there. How could he have allowed himself to be trapped? Shinra was shaking his head.

 

“I don’t kno-”

 

Before he could finish his sentence, Izaya’s cry made both of them jump. They run to the room to find him curled in on himself once again, fists pressed tightly against his chest, face wet with tears, crying out a broken string of _‘please’_. Shinra grabbed him by the arms and shook him, asking Celty to bring him the bag from the living room (just to get her out of the room) and shouting his name in between. By the time she returned, Izaya was awake, pressed tightly against Shinra’s chest, his eyes still wide in terror, not recognizing her or the man who was holding him so close. She left the bag on the floor and started to move towards the bed, but Shinra nodded at her to leave them. Seeing the informant in that state was overwhelming even for her; she could hardly imagine how hard it should be for Shinra. So she obeyed, if somewhat reluctantly, and waited for him in the living room, taking her helmet off and leaving it on the coffee table in front of her.

 

She had always disliked Izaya, even when he and Shinra were still in school. She could never understand why Shinra had chosen a person like him for a friend. If anything, it was yet another proof of what a terrible person he himself was. _“Why do you love Shinra? He’s not the best of people, if you know what I mean”_ she heard Shizuo’s words again. How could she judge the informant when she loved a man capable of destroying other people for her love? Wasn’t it just hypocritical? She got up and paced up and down the living room, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She had always disliked the man, but she now felt that he deserved justice. Whoever had done this to him had to be taken in. The creaking of the door as Shinra emerged from the room pulled her out of her thoughts and she started tapping on her PDA before he’d even crossed the corridor. Seeing her doing so, he raised his hands answering a question he hadn’t yet read.

  
“He’s alright. I helped him change into his pajamas”, but as he approached her, she shoved the device in his face.

[You must persuade him to go to the police]

Shinra read the message and stared up at her puzzled.

[Couldn’t you testify as a witness? You took care of his wounds]

“Wait, wait, wait… First of all, there’s no way he’s going to the police; you know Izaya, he’ll want to deal with it his way”

[He almost got killed!]

[Whoever did this is dangerous!]

[Next time he may not be so lucky!]

She kept extending and retracting the device, her fingers flying over the letters. Shinra sighed and wrapped his fingers around her wrist to stop her.

“It’s not up to me. You’re right - of course you’re right! But it’s _his_ decision”, and he slumped down on the couch. “Anyway, I couldn’t testify for him”.

[But why not?], she sat next to him, not meaning to let go.

“I’m not licensed Celty, I’m not supposed to take care of his wounds or keep a pharmacy in my apartment or practice medicine in general!”

[But you saved his life!]

“That’s not how they’ll see it… They could put me in jail. Would you want that?”

None of this had occurred to her, she had just wanted to help. She slouched, refusing to reply; the answer was self-evident. Shinra smiled and took her hand in his.

“It’s nice of you to want to help, but things aren’t at all simple here. We’ll just have to give him enough time to deal with this in his own way”. She laced their fingers together in reply and he let his head rest on her shoulder. “I’m so glad I have you in my life, Celty. I just wish he could also find someone to care about”.

 

***

 

 

Shinra spent that night, as well as the following ones, in the back room, half-lying in the armchair, drifting in and out of sleep. Izaya was restless, his sleep as tortured as his body. He kept pleading with someone, but _‘please’_ was the only word that came out of his mouth in his delirious state; no clues as to who he was pleading with. However, the pleas went along with the tears and the panic attacks, so Shinra felt certain that he was in fact reliving the events that had led to him being carried half-conscious to the apartment Shinra and Celty shared, early in that morning. Whenever the panic attacks hit him, Shinra would just walk over to the bed, pull him up close in his arms and hold him there quietly, carefully stroking his hair around the wound in the back of his head and brushing his tears away, until he calmed down. It would take Izaya a few moments to realize where he was and what had happened, and then he’d push Shinra away without a word, lying back down on the bed and shutting his eyes. He only addressed the man once, to ask him to open the blinds. This game with the blinds had started to truly frustrate Shinra, but he did it anyway, just to please his friend.

He kept playing over and over Celty’s message in his mind: _There was blood everywhere in his bathroom, there was even some of it on the staircase to the second floor of his apartment._ Did that mean that when Izaya called him at 5 o’clock that morning, he was lying in a pool of his own blood in his bathroom? The thought distressed him; he shouldn’t have listened to him in the first place, he should have sent Celty pick him up right away. But why on earth had he refused help? Wasn’t that the reason why he had called; to get help? Not wanting Shizuo to find out made sense up to a point, but Izaya would never put himself at risk just to avoid a meeting with the blonde. But then again, he was badly hurt and he might have feared that Shizuo would take advantage of the situation to hurt him even further. Although Shinra was positive he’d never have done something like that. If anything, he might have even offered to help.

  
Shinra had always read more into that passionate mutual hatred of theirs than either of them would ever care to admit. For years he had secretly wished that they’d eventually find the courage to accept their feelings, to see that raging passion for what it truly was; that way they would finally both have someone in their lives, someone who could put up with them and make them appreciate themselves. The things they had in common far outnumbered the things that kept them apart. One of those things they shared was their stubborn egotism, though, and it was exactly what kept them apart. He wanted nothing for them but to be happy, and he knew for a fact that, despite Izaya’s impervious façade and Shizuo’s act of being tough and indifferent, they were both deeply unhappy.

  
***

  
 _I feel his warm fingertips trace the skin from my neck all the way down to my navel, circling it a couple of times before they’re wrapped around my thigh. His hipbones brush the inside of my thighs as he positions himself between my spread legs. He caresses the inside on my knee, kneading the skin_ _with his strong fingers, bringing his lips down on my neck, nuzzling and nibbling hungrily. My body’s on fire, shaking with want, the tingling sensation growing in my groin. I bring a hand up to burry it in his golden locks and I’m taken aback at how natural it feels, to touch him so intimately, to gaze deep into those honey-tinted eyes, melting in that color, melting along with him as he whispers my name; his voice a flood of warmth stripping me bear from all the pretenses. Is it too bad to enjoy the game this much? I don’t care. I don’t care if I get lost in it, I need his lips on mine, I need to breathe through his mouth, I need to feel through his skin... I’ll crush him tomorrow; I make the promise to myself, knowing that I’ll keep postponing it for as long as I can. I just need him tonight._

 

The first rays of light were coming in through the open blinds when Izaya’s moaning woke Shinra up. He jumped from the armchair before his eyes were even fully open, running by the side of the bed ready to pull his friend up in his arms to chase the nightmares away once again… Only this time the dream torturing him didn’t look like a nightmare. His fingers were latched on the blanket, holding on to it desperately, a few beads of sweat shinning on his forehead, and his lips were parted but not to plead; rather to draw shallow, uneven breaths, letting out strangled moans of pleasure. Shinra stood still by the bed watching him, his bewilderment fighting the embarrassment of witnessing such an intimate moment.

 

_He brings his lips to mine, but only briefly. He pulls back and presses two fingers against my lower lip instead, slowly pushing them inside my mouth. I lick them teasingly, tasting the bitter smoke that emanates from every pore of his skin, and then take them both inside my mouth, all the way down to the base, sucking them lustfully. His eyes flutter shut as he moans, his length growing stiff against mine. I coat his fingers with saliva and he pulls them out of my mouth, replacing them with his tongue, rolling it on the inside of my lips, brushing it against mine as his fingers start probing my entrance, wet and burning hot. I whimper in anticipation as he keeps circling my muscle ring and then he starts nibbling on my lower lip, slowly inserting one of his fingers. The sensation is so good it makes me moan loudly. I can feel his eyes watching me intently, looking for clues as to whether I’m enjoying it and how he should proceed. I pull him in for another kiss, deep and wet and sloppy, and he knows, he reads my need in it and pushes the second finger in, probing and scissoring inside me, drowning me in desire. It shouldn’t feel so good. It’s never felt so good. The sensation of someone scissoring me has always made my stomach turn, has always made me feel weak and helpless. Why does it feel so good now? Could it be because this is a game I created myself? A game that will bring my worst enemy crumbling to the floor? My greatest enemy; the man who makes my body burn and melt with his touches._

_  
He pulls his fingers out and presses the tip of his cock against my entrance. I shudder but he stays still, hazy eyes fixed on mine, asking for permission. I watch him and it’s like I’m seeing him for the first time; his golden locks falling in his face, always hiding those beautiful eyes which have never before held any other expression than hatred and fury when looking at me, his lips, thin but sensual in a weird kind of way, the tip of his nose… Yes! Yes, please, just fuck me already! I can’t take this anymore, I want to feel you inside me, I want to be nothing but flesh in your hands, I want to leave everything behind, just for tonight, to silence my mind and drown in you; your scent, your warmth, your pleasure, your eyes and skin and golden hair, your rage and your lust and your hatred… for you could never love me, could you?_

  
  
He watched him toss his head against the pillow, his lower lip trembling with pleasure, eyes shut tight and forehead creased. This was more than a dream; it was too intense, too intimate… Shinra thought that it had to be a memory. He was fisting his hands in the blanket, his legs squirming underneath it. So was there someone in his life after all? Perhaps he wasn’t as lonely as Shinra had assumed him to be, perhaps there was someone he cared about, someone who could make him feel good. Despite the pleasure however, the memory seemed to be rather painful – if the creasing of his forehead and the sorrowful expression in his face was any indication.

  
  
_I nod my consent and he slowly pushes his member up inside me, stretching my muscle wide with his thickness, making me toss my head back and grunt through clenched teeth. He stops, terrified that he’s hurting me – and he is, the pain is splitting me in two, but the pleasure shushes the voice in my head that screams ‘stop’ and my body is left screaming ‘more’ instead. I wrap my legs around his strong waist and I pull him even closer, forcing his whole length inside me, burying him to the hilt in my body; through my loud moans I wish I could have more of him inside me, I wish I could open up and welcome him in my dead and empty heart, trapping him there forever. Even though I know he’d just tear his way out of it. He shuts his eyes and moans, his lips right by my ear, and I hear him grunt “You’re so…tight”, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. I hold him close to me, his chest brushing mine as he starts moving inside me, slowly at first but soon picking up the pace, setting my body on fire, my heart beating wildly against my ribcage, as if it could burst any moment now. Shizu-chan…Shizu-chan…Shizu-chan…Shizu-chan…Nothing but his name in my mind, there’s nothing else in this room, there’s nothing else outside this room, there’s just this, this yearning for him to be mine, to make me his, to break me and eliminate me in his arms. He’s terrified. After all these years of chasing me and throwing anything he could get his hands on at me, from road signs to vending machines, to wrecked cars, he’s now terrified of hurting me, holding back with every whimper. I laugh and I lead him through it, letting him know what I like and how hard I like it. Even when he crosses the limits and hurts me beyond belief, I still laugh; because I couldn’t care less even if he killed me like this, I couldn’t ask for anything more than this night, and I’ll never have anything more, he’ll never give me anything more… No, starting tomorrow morning he’s going to hate me, just like he always has. So I just joke about it and pull him close again, I pull on his hair and I peck on his lips and I ask him to go on. It hurts when he thrusts himself back inside me, but I ignore the pain; I don’t even care for it anymore, I don’t want it, I just accept it as the price I have to pay for having him inside me. You could never do anything but hurt me, Shizu-chan…_

_Shizu-chan…_

  
“Shiz…chan… Ahh… Shizu…”

Shinra took a step back, retrieving his hands from the railing of the bed. He felt his face blushing wildly, like he had just walked in on a very intimate scene with his only friends starring in it. _Shizu-chan?_ Was Izaya fantasizing about Shizuo? But hadn’t he concluded himself mere moments ago that this felt more like a memory rather than a dream? Did that mean that…? He stood there observing Izaya’s face; it was contorted with pain and sorrow. 

  
_I fall asleep with my head resting on the curve of your neck and I dream of seagulls mewing in the sky. I must have seen this in a movie, this sleeping position, because it’s like nothing I would have ever done myself; I always enjoy sleeping alone in my king size bed, I could never stand sharing a bed with someone, not even with my sisters. There isn’t much space in your bed though, so maybe there’s no other way for us to fit in it._

_  
I wake up moments before your alarm clock goes off and I lie there still and quiet. I feel like I can still hear the seagulls mewing. I watch you while you’re sleeping; you don’t look human Shizu-chan, not even in your sleep. You don’t look flawed and boring, weak and mediocre. Your hair sparkles in the light coming in through the window, just like gold, and your skin looks so smooth… It even feels smooth, despite the thousands of times I have slashed it open in the past. I guess I could never hurt you, Shizu-chan; you would have healed long before you could shed a single tear for me. This game is hopeless, isn’t it?_

_  
Your alarm goes off and I hurriedly shut my eyes as you reach for it over my head. I need to find a way to get out of here fast, to escape this madness and the wrath you’ll bring upon me as soon as you realize what happened last night and who’s lying in your bed next to you. You turn it off and groan disgruntled as I count the seconds until you jump up roaring and kick me out like you should have done last night. I feel you move your hands and I prepare myself for whatever’s coming, a violent push, a punch or your fingers curled tight around my throat like so many times before, I’ll take it, whatever it is, I’ll smirk and I’ll laugh and… You brush my hair tenderly whispering ‘good morning’. And before I can even open my eyes you bring your lips to mine and you kiss me. This should be disgusting; you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet and your tongue is already roaming inside my mouth… Only it isn’t. Quite the contrary actually. I respond to it, drawing my fingers through your hair, curling your golden locks around them, eagerly drinking the bitterness of your cigarettes from your mouth, like poison. I want to drink it all, I want it running in my veins. Go ahead Shizu-chan, just kill me already. If you let me walk out of this apartment alive you’ll only regret it later, so kill me now, please, just drown me in your kisses, squash me in your arms, bleed me dry until there’s nothing left of me but my face and my voice carved deep inside your heart._

_  
You pull away, your warm hands caressing my face, and I open my eyes to find you looking at me, smiling like you’d smile at someone you love._

_If I had a heart Shizu-chan, it would now be broken._

 

Shinra watched Izaya as pleasure turned into pain and tears started falling form his eyes, running down his bruised face silently. He had no idea what to make of this. He was hoping the tears would stop after a while, but Izaya seemed to be drifting further and further into this incomprehensible grief. So he stepped back by his side and reluctantly brushed the tears away from his cheeks, whispering his name at the same time. Izaya furrowed his brow and jerked his head, and Shinra retrieved his hand, let it rest on the blanket on his friend’s side, supporting his weight as he leaned over him and whispered his name again, just a little bit louder this time, to force him out of his dream. However, Izaya didn’t open his eyes. His fingers let go of the blanket and searched the bed, coming across the doctor’s hand and desperately holding on to the fabric of his white doctor’s coat. The unmistakable desperation made Shinra’s heart sink. The tears had yet to stop and he brought his other hand to Izaya’s face, caressing him gently as he whispered: “Wake up, it’s ok, it’s me…”

  
Izaya’s eyes flew open. He didn’t seem to recognize Shinra at first, but at least the look in his eyes was not one of terror; it was rather one of longing and yearning and hoping against his best knowledge. When recognition finally settled in he let go of his friend’s sleeve and started laughing; a distraught laugh that tore at Shinra’s chest. He rolled to his side, laughing hysterically, his eyes still filled with tears.

“Are you ok? Izaya! Are you listening? Hey, are you ok?”

He calmed down after a while, a savage smirk plastered on his face, and he mumbled:

“I’m fine… Just a bad dream…”

“It didn’t _seem_ bad. It didn’t _sound_ bad and it most definitely didn’t _feel_ bad”, Shinra argued, waving the hand that Izaya had so desperately held on to just moments ago. But Izaya didn’t seem to want to talk about it. He shut his eyes briefly and growled:

“Leave me alone”

And perhaps he would have done so, if he wasn’t so intrigued.

“Is there someone you want me to call? Someone you’d like to have here by your side?” Izaya chuckled but his voice was broken.

“Just go away”

“If there is anyone… it will help, to have people you care about by your side, someone who can support you and make you feel better”, but Izaya was laughing again, quietly, and Shinra noticed silently that he could just as well be crying. “There’s nothing wrong with being cared for, Izaya”.

Izaya tossed his head back, his laughter growing wild even as his face was still wet from the tears, and he raised his voice as close to a shout as his bruised chest allowed him.

“GET OUT!”

The pain made him curl in on himself again, bringing his knees to his chest, and he rolled to his other side, turning his back to Shinra who halfheartedly left the room, closing the door behind him to allow his friend some privacy. He had no idea what had just happened, but he knew that interrogating Izaya would never prove successful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so depressing :( What I was thinking was that Izaya's mind makes use of every opportunity it's given to remind him of memories and thoughts he's buried so deep that he almost doesn't know they're there. Anyway, there's only one more chapter of Shinra/Izaya left and then the story will finally move on, I promise.


	15. A friend in need 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya smiled at himself. Yes, this was indeed his greatest talent.

Shinra reduced Izaya’s painkillers to half the dosage. It wasn’t very effective as far as the pain was concerned, but at least he seemed to be more lucid and in control. Neither of them commented on that little incident, even though it monopolized their thoughts at least until that evening – they’d continue thinking about it for days. He’d half expected Izaya to put up a fight for those painkillers – Shinra was certain the stitches in his rectum hurt terribly, non stop – but as a matter of fact he seemed almost relieved. Izaya spent all morning staring at the wall the bed he was lying in was propped against, with his back to the door so that both times the doctor entered the room to check on him and give him his medicine he was unable to see his face.

 

He didn’t want anyone to see him like that. He was losing his mind, he felt certain. The pain had been unbearable and the painkillers had not helped much; they’d taken the physical pain away but they’d forced him to relive that horrid night again and again, the same tormenting images on endless repeat. But this was still no excuse for his mind to play such dirty tricks on him. _Seagulls mewing in the sky?_ He could _hear_ them, _for fuck’s sake_ he could even _see_ them, sunlight filtered through their feathery wings... What the hell was wrong with him? It was true that they had slept, for no more than a couple of hours, that night, and yes, they had woken up together in the beast’s tiny bed, and it was true that he’d been a bit on edge about how the beast would react upon finding Izaya there in his bed, but… Had he truly wanted the beast so badly? It made no sense. Had he been so desperate for that contact? Of course he hadn’t! The painkillers were making him delirious, Shinra had said so himself!

 

…Only he could still feel those warm fingertips on his skin and they made him…

 

…they made him…

 

…the sensation just took his breath away. And it wasn’t the pain, it wasn’t the bruises, this was different, it was a different kind of breathlessness…

 

He stared at that wall for hours, feeling almost as if he was carving it with his eyes, wondering why he hadn’t bothered think about his revenge yet. He’d been in terrible pain no doubt, but it’d been two days already… He wanted the beast to suffer… _did he not?_

 

He did, of course he did, there was still anger simmering inside him. But some part of him felt almost as if he had…

 

-

 

-

 

… _deserved_ it…

 

-

 

-

 

-

 

 _Deserved it_ … It sounded like some bad soap opera, like some terrible police drama where the victims blame themselves, but he was not like that, he was not helpless, he was not weak, he wasn’t even confused! He knew just what had happened; the beast had proven unpredictable once again, losing it completely! All Izaya had done was go see him, like he’d been asked to! He had just… he had… he had walked into the lion’s lair himself….

 

He had given himself up for a sacrifice.

 

-

 

-

 

He felt sick.

 

He _should_ have known how it would all turn out.

 

He _had_ known, hadn’t he? He should have left, he should have gotten the hell out of that apartment when it all started going to pieces, he _must_ have known where it was all going…

 

He’d done this to himself… The beast had just followed his hints, had just taken the bait and let it lead him wherever the hell it took him, Shizuo had jus-

 

-

 

-

 

-

 

 _Shizuo_.

 

In the past two days, drowning in this insane pain, he hadn’t used that name, not once, not even in the depths of his mind, not when he was lucid enough to know where he was… There was no… no _Shizuo_ … just _the_ _beast_ … the beast, the monster who had done this to him… But the monster who had done this to Izaya was… it was Izaya himself, wasn’t it? He brought his hands to his face, swollen, bruised and deformed, and he jabbed his nails into it, digging them deeper and deeper, breaking the swollen skin, drawing blood.

 

_Shizuo._

He hated that man. And even if he didn’t, it made no difference, for he was going to destroy him anyway.

 

_Shizuo._

His nemesis. His favorite toy. His worst enemy. His lover. The man who took his breath away.

 

_Shizuo._

The monster, the beast, the torturer, his one and only.

 

He was going to bring him down, for bringing him down would mean to restore his sanity; it would turn him back to the man he was.

 

He hadn’t realized that he was laughing through it all. He hadn’t realized that his laughter had escalated to a sinister howl that had brought Shinra running by his side. The doctor grabbed him by the arms and dragged him down on the bed, pulling his hands away from his face, shouting something that didn’t reach Izaya’s ears in his frenzy. He was held down until his laughter stopped, until he calmed down, until Shinra felt it was safe to let go of his hands to get some disinfectant for the fresh wounds on his face. And as he tapped on them with the cotton swab he started scolding Izaya like he would a child; with loving words and caring smiles.

 

“Now why would you do that to yourself, huh? Hasn’t your pretty face suffered enough already? Shouldn’t we be working on making you better, rather than inflicting new wounds?” and other sweet talk like that, meant to make him feel better.

 

“Shinra…”

 

Shinra’s eyes locked with Izaya’s, worried. His friend’s voice sounded truly distressed - as if self-hurt wasn’t disturbing enough already.

 

“What is it Izaya? What’s the matter?”

 

“I’m… losing my mind…”

 

“What are you talking about?” He pretended to have no idea – everything was perfectly normal. But Izaya shut his eyes and his face was convulsed in pain - this wasn’t physical pain; it was far more cruel. “You’re not losing your mind, Izaya, you’re fine. It’s just the painkillers, I told you they could cause hallucinations but you didn’t listen, you never do… You’ll be fine now. I promise, it’s all going to be fine”. He hated making promises about things he had no power over, but reassuring his friend was his only worry at that moment. Izaya opened his eyes tentatively and looked up at the doctor who was smiling at him. “How about you sit here tight and I bring you your lunch, ok?” He’d hardly made a move when the informant grabbed his sleeve terrified.

 

“Don’t leave me!”

 

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll just bring you your lunch”. But Izaya wouldn’t let go. “I’ll leave the door open so you can hear me, alright? It will only take me a minute”. His sleeve was released reluctantly and he did as he’d promised; he left the door open to go fetch the lunch he’d made. Izaya struggled with the food, managing to swallow no more than a couple of bites, and then gave a proper fight for the painkillers, only a different one than Shinra had expected; he didn’t want any of them. He was eventually persuaded to take one pill, but on one condition; Shinra had to stay in the room with him. The doctor didn’t know what to make of it, but he agreed anyway. He pulled the armchair right by the bed and sat in it as Izaya lied down, shutting his eyes tiredly. Only a few seconds had passed before his right hand, the bandaged one which also held the IV needle, started searching the sheets on the side of the bed, fingers stretched out in an invitation. Shinra subconsciously held his breath as he raised his hand to the bed, and as the informant entwined their fingers together drifting away, the doctor was left wondering since when Izaya found human contact comforting.

 

***

 

Of course, it wasn’t human contact Izaya was craving for. Shinra’s hand in his served as an anchor to the real world, an anchor to sanity; as long as he could feel those fingers entwined tightly with his – to the point of being painful for both parties, even though neither of them complained or broke the contact – he was safe from the terrifying dreams, good or bad. His sleep wasn’t exactly peaceful, but it was more or less quiet. When he woke up a few hours later, Shinra was still there by his side; his right arm extended to the bed, his hand in Izaya’s, his left elbow propped on the armrest, his head resting on his rolled fist. He had dozed off. Izaya watched him for a moment before abruptly pulling his hand from the doctor’s, causing the man to almost fall off the chair. He smirked contentedly and then shut his eyes pretending to have only just woken up.

 

Shinra fumbled with his glasses trying to straighten them, mumbling under his breath “I must have dozed off”. He then looked up at Izaya who had only half opened his eyes.

 

“Hey… Did you sleep well?”

 

“Yes, thank you”, he stretched his body, throwing his arms in the air, and then flashed a charming smile that made Shinra’s heart melt.

 

“Good!”, the doctor was smiling like an idiot. “Are you feeling ok? The pain isn’t too much, is it?”

 

“It’s bad, but I will put up with it”

 

Shinra wasn’t very happy with this reply, but didn’t comment. Instead he got up and checked a few things on the board where he was taking notes.

 

“Since you’re feeling better now, I think we should start doing the breathing exercises”

 

“Breathing exercises?” Izaya echoed confused.

 

“Yes, to help prevent a lung infection. You see, the pain caused by a broken rib doesn’t allow you to breathe normally. You have to do these exercises every few hours, to make sure your lungs operate fine”

 

“My lungs are fine”

 

“I know”, Shinra gave him an understanding smile putting his hands in his doctor coat’s pockets, “it’s precautionary. Don’t worry, it’s very simple. I just want you to take a few deep breaths, coughing gently as you let the air out”.

 

“Can’t we do this tomorrow?”

 

“No, we can’t. You should have been doing them from day one. I only let you off ‘cause you weren’t feeling well. Come on now, deep breath”

 

Izaya just stared at him.

 

“Would you like me to help you sit up? Would that be better?”

 

“I would like you to help me sit up and then just leave me alone”

 

“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible”, his smile told Izaya he wasn’t at all sorry, “so why don’t you save us both some time, huh?” He took the pendant control in his hand and pressed the button to bring the bed up to a sitting position, helping Izaya place the spare pillow underneath his bottom so that it would be less uncomfortable.

 

Izaya stared at the doctor some more, trying to keep up his defiant look, but he knew there was no escaping it. So he made himself as comfortable as he could before attempting to take the first deep breath. He only made it half way before choking on the air from the pain. He burst into rough coughing and Shinra rapidly pulled him up, gently pressing the pillow against his back where the broken rib was located to absorb the vibrations and subdue the pain. When Izaya finally calmed down, he let him fall against the bed again, exhausted and panting.

 

“I said: deep breath and then let the air out with _gentle_ coughing. What was it that you did not understand?” his tone infuriatingly condescending.

 

Izaya looked up with eyes filled with tears from the pain and the breathlessness, cheeks flushed from all the effort, the rest of his face pale like a sheet.

 

“It… hurts…”, his breathing reduced to ragged pants.

 

“Too bad. Try again”

 

“La – ter…”

 

“Not later, Izaya. Now”

 

He shut his eyes exasperated and took a few more moments to calm down. Then he opened them to momentarily glare at the doctor before resuming his effort to do the exercise. The second attempt was only slightly better than the first. Having already suffered a severe pain attack the first time, Izaya knew not to go for a really deep breath, but only for one a bit deeper than what was normal for him these days. It still hurt badly though and he ended up coughing the air out roughly once again, the pain in his chest and back making his eyes water as he stuttered “en-nnough!”

 

Shinra, who was gently pressing the pillow against his friend’s back again, let go and leaned over to study his face carefully. When he spoke his voice was cold, the mocking element in it making Izaya freeze in shock.

 

“Well, what do you know! The fearless informant weeping like a schoolgirl over a deep breath!”

 

As the doctor’s lips curled up in a taunting smirk, Izaya snapped out of the shock and almost jumped out of the bed enraged at the mockery. But Shinra was faster now that the pain held the informant immobilized in bed, and he grabbed his arms pinning him down, leaning a little bit closer as he stressed the words:

 

“Deep breath, gentle coughing. Again!”

 

After a few more tries, Izaya found the way to control his breathing and cheat the pain, and these breathing exercises became part of their daily routine. Just like his pitiful attempts at walking.

 

His calves hurt badly because of the bruises, but that wasn’t the only reason Izaya had difficulty walking. His lower abdomen still hurt very much on the third day, a painful weight pulling him down every time he tried to straighten his body. Even when lying in bed he’d either curl in on himself or bend his knees if he had to lie on his back. Shinra knew that it’d take time, but Izaya insisted that he wanted to try, so in the end the doctor gave in. At first he held him close, carefully pulling up a great deal of Izaya’s weight as he took his first steps off the bed. But the informant wanted to try on his own and ended up pushing the doctor away only to drop to the floor like a shack of potatoes moments after he’d been left with no one to support him. Shinra only reached out in time to support his upper body so that he wouldn’t have to worry about that broken rib again. But he let go when he decided that it was safe, and Izaya found himself lying on the cold floor, both his legs and his abdomen hurting almost as much as they had that horrible night. Shinra stood by watching him silently for a few moments, and then kneeled down to try and help his friend up. But Izaya pushed his hands away, refusing any help.

 

“I can get up on my own!” he spat the words with contempt, but thankfully Shinra was far more perceptive than Shizuo and understood without a doubt that the feeling was directed to the informant himself. So he stood by silently and watched him struggle for a while, his body betraying him repeatedly. In the end Izaya just gave up, slumping down on the floor with a resigned sigh, but when Shinra attempted to help him, his hands were pushed away just as violently as the first time.

 

“Stubborn denial won’t help, you know”

 

Izaya waved a hand over his head to shush him – his face was on the floor – but it didn’t seem to work.

 

“It’s not your calves that are the problem, Izaya. I mean, they must hurt, I’m sure. I can massage the muscles for you, that might help. But it’s the pain in your lower abdomen that makes it impossible to stand up, am I right?” He waited for a few moments, but there was no reply. “It’s very common in victims of sexual abuse”

 

“Fuck you!” Izaya’s reply came before Shinra had even spoken those two words, low and angry. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” He didn’t raise his face from the floor, but his fingers were digging in it and the tension was visible in his body.

 

“I’m sorry” and he truly was, he’d rather not have to speak about it himself, “but you’ll have to deal with it eventually. Denying the fact won’t help you”

 

Izaya chuckled bitterly and after a few moments raised a hand to ask for Shinra’s help to get off the floor. He only spoke again when he was lying in bed.

 

“I want to have a shower”

 

Shinra examined him for a moment.

 

“Ok. You can have a shower tomorrow, I think you’re worn out for today”, but Izaya was shaking his head.

 

“Now. I want to have a shower _now_. I can smell the b-… _blood_ … I can smell the blood on me”

 

Shinra had the feeling that _‘blood’_ was not the word Izaya had been meaning to say, and he was right, he’d been meaning to say _‘beast’_ ; he felt like he could smell Shizuo on him and the feeling had him constantly on edge. It was probably just his imagination, he realized that, he stunk of blood and disinfectant instead, but a shower would still make him feel better. Shinra studied him for a few moments before shaking his head and flatly announcing: “You can have a shower tomorrow. I don’t want you to get your stitches under water yet”. He walked out of the room before Izaya could protest and ignored the pleas and curses that echoed through the apartment all evening.

 

***

 

Shinra had everything ready for Izaya’s shower by lunch on the fourth day. He’d placed a stool in the middle of the shower, with an inflatable donut cushion Celty had purchased the previous evening on top of it, he’d taken Izaya’s bathrobe out of the bag Celty had brought over from the informant’s apartment, and he’d even bought a new sponge for him and a hypoallergenic liquid soap, like the ones they use for children, just to make sure his wounds wouldn’t have any unexpected reactions. He helped Izaya out of his pajamas and into the bathrobe and then helped him walk all the way to the bathroom, supporting his weight with an arm wrapped tight around the upper part of his body. When they made it into the bathroom, Shinra helped the informant slip out of the bathrobe and carefully sit on the cushion on the stool – Izaya glared at him, but refrained from complaining; it did wonders for the pain down there. Once the informant was all set and comfortable, Shinra moved for the door.

 

“I’ll leave you alone, call me if you need anything”, but before he could leave the room he heard his friend’s voice.

 

“Stay”

 

He turned around to look at him, but Izaya was staring at the wall right in front of him, inches above the shower handle.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Izaya just nodded without turning to look at the doctor. Shinra reluctantly walked up to him and turned the water on, adjusting the temperature. He then handed the hand shower to his friend and took a few steps back, pressing his back against the closed door while intently watching the man in front of him. Izaya cautiously turned the hand shower towards him, testing to see whether the pressure of the water hurt his bruised skin. He seemed to be pleasantly surprised by the sensation and proceeded to wash himself thoroughly, applying some of the liquid soap on his brand new sponge and vigilantly scrubbing his skin. He started with his neck and shoulders, slowly moving down to his chest and then his abdomen, wincing at the pain every now and then. He was using his left hand, as his right wrist still hurt and needed to rest in order to heal. He scrubbed his arms next, before moving down to his legs. He brought the sponge between his thighs, cringing unintentionally at the large dark bruises that had formed down there. Shinra had wiped him clean on that first morning, but his skin was still smeared with blood and disinfectant. The doctor watched silently from his spot against the door, following the soapy sponge across the bruised skin with his eyes, noting his friend’s discomfort and the slight tremor of his hands, thinking to himself that Izaya must have been starving himself for quite some time now, as his body was terribly thin and frail, and cringing himself at the sight of those milky thighs stained with angry bruises. He couldn’t help wondering why he had been asked to stay in the room. Izaya’s state of mind was still not very good and he disliked being left alone, but having been abused like that he should be more protective of his body, more self-conscious. Not that he had ever been self-conscious, mind you. He liked himself way too much to be self-conscious, Shinra knew this for a fact. He liked his body just as much as he liked his sick games and his twisted intellect; he weighed himself every day and always made sure he was fit. And even though looks weren’t the main reason why he liked to be fit, it certainly was a pleasant side effect.

 

Lost in his thoughts as he was, it took him a moment to notice the informant’s eyes turned to him, his left arm half extended over his head, holding the sponge out in something that looked like an invitation.

 

“Will you do my back for me?”

 

He nodded blankly and pushed himself off the door, taking his white coat off and hanging it on the door knob before walking towards the shower. He pulled his sleeves up and took the sponge from his friend’s slender fingers, using it to smoothly scrub his bruised back with it. From this new position, standing right behind the man, Shinra had a disturbingly clear view of the bruises on the inside of his thighs and couldn’t hold back a long sigh.

 

“Who did this to you, Izaya?”

 

It was more of a plea rather than a question, but the informant was not interested in this conversation.

 

“Nobody _did_ anything to me, Shinra. It was just sex. You should try it some time! Or does your headless girlfriend have no vagina eith- OUCH!” Shinra had applied just a little bit more pressure on Izaya’s lower back.

 

“Sorry! It’s a good thing you don’t have any broken ribs down there”

 

They remained silent for a few moments while Shinra rinsed Izaya’s back.

 

“Could you do my hair for me as well? Just as much as you can, around the stitches”

 

Shinra didn’t bother reply, he just started washing the raven hair as carefully as he could. When he spoke up his voice was steady and soft; he was determined to go through this conversation, even if it meant Izaya would hate him for it.

 

“This wasn’t sex, Izaya. This was rape”

 

The bluntness of the word felt like a current of icy air suddenly storming in the room. Izaya subconsciously held his breath at the sound of it, feeling glad that his back was turned to the doctor, for he could feel all color rush out of his face. Of course, Shinra knew his reaction even without looking at his face. He felt the man’s muscles tense up under his touch and he could tell that his chest had stopped moving, no air coming in or going out.

 

“You will feel better, if you talk about it”

 

Izaya resumed his breathing with a scornful chuckle.

 

“What do you know?”

 

Even though he knew his friend couldn’t see him, Shinra nodded. What did he know?

 

“You’re right, I don’t know. But your body tells me a lot about what happened to you, and I don’t think denying the truth is helpful”

 

“ _My body tells you what happened_?! Have you been listening to me at all? _Nothing_ happened!”

 

Shinra sighed rinsing the raven locks with warm water. He then turned the water off and started drying the same locks with a towel.

 

“Except for that sprained wrist, your arms and your hands are unharmed; not even a scratch” His voice remained soft, yet emotionless. “Which means that you didn’t get to fight much. I suppose you drew your switchblade and that’s how you sprained your wrist, when someone forcefully took it away from you, but you didn’t fight at all after that. Which can only mean that the head injuries came first. You were too dizzy to fight back, feeling faint perhaps”

 

Izaya had gone stiff in front of him. He was hardly breathing, his hands set still on his legs. He didn’t turn around to look at the doctor though, nor did he tell him to stop.

 

“Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong”. There was no reply. “So your head got cracked open first, probably banged against a wall or something, and then I’m guessing your legs... They probably kicked you, or hit you with something hard enough to knock you down. And then it was your back and your chest. Now, I originally thought you’d been kicked, but if that was the case, the damage in your ribcage would have been far more extensive. So I’m guessing you were probably just thrown against a wall, or tossed against some other hard surface, probably the one were they pinned you down to rape you”. Shinra felt the word grate his mouth, but he had to go on. Someone had to force Izaya back to reality, and there was no one around but him. He placed his hand on the man’s nape, gently wrapping his fingers around it, trying to match the bruises there. “They pinned you down by your nape; someone strong enough. Now, the bruises on the inside of you thighs tell me you fought as much as you could; you kicked and tossed, but it didn’t help you very much. Your soar throat suggests you screamed-”

 

“Stop”, Izaya muttered the plea under his breath and Shinra pretended not to have heard it.

 

“-but that didn’t do you much good either. There was no semen inside you, which means either that they used condoms-”

 

“Just stop already” the second plea was no louder than the first one, only more desperate, but Shinra ignored it just the same.

 

“-or that they simply didn’t ejaculate. After all, this wasn’t for pleasure, it was pure torture”

 

“ **Enough!** ” He was starting to hyperventilate and he pushed himself off the stool to get away from the man torturing him with all the memories, only to drop to the floor, palms pushing against the shower floor, head drooped between his shoulders. Shinra gave him a moment before walking around to him and covering him with the bathrobe, tenderly pulling his head up towards him. Izaya’s black eyes were filled with tears but a flame was flickering in them. “You enjoy torturing me way too much, Shinra”

 

The doctor smiled teasingly. “When will I ever get another chance?!” After a moment he went on, on a serious tone. “You have to admit it first, so you can work on accepting it. You can’t just pretend it never happened and bury it deep inside you mind”

 

“I don’t intend to bury it, trust me. I _will_ get my revenge”

 

Shinra sighed. “I’m not talking about revenge, Izaya. Revenge won’t make anything right, it won’t make you feel better either”

 

“You’re wrong about that!” The glimmer in his eyes left no hopes of talking sense to him. Shinra sighed again and chose his next words carefully.

 

“Whoever did this to you is clearly dangerous. Going against them could get you killed”

 

“And what would you have me do? Call the police instead?!” It was a taunt, but Shinra had been doing a lot of thinking since his conversation with Celty two days earlier.

 

“Why not?” Izaya looked at him incredulously, but the doctor went on. “I could testify for you if you want me to”

 

“Would you do that for me Shinra?” There was honest surprise in his expression, but it disappeared almost instantly as he went on, mocking bitterness taking its place. “Would you risk losing it all, even your life with your beloved monster, just to help me?”

 

Shinra pretended not to have heard the insult. He just looked straight into his friend’s eyes. “If that’s what you want to do, then I’ll find a way”

 

Izaya stared at him silently for a while, his expression unreadable.   And then he smiled; a contemptuous smile filled with pain. “Why would I want to do that? So that the whole of Tokyo could say ‘he finally got what he deserved’?” He extended a hand to Shinra, gently caressing the side of the doctor’s face as he went on. “Oh no! That’s a pleasure reserved only for you, my dear Shinra!” and he smiled the most painful smile, one that was dripping blood as Shinra thought to himself, shocked by the implication of those words.

 

“I don’t think you deserved this!” he hardly had the strength to protest. The informant’s smile didn’t falter at all. He retrieved his hand and looked at the doctor for a moment.

 

“Perhaps you should”. There was a moment of tense silence before he tried to push himself up, unsuccessfully. “Will you help me back to my room, please?”

 

Izaya was not in the mood for a conversation, but Shinra couldn’t let go. After helping him into a clean pair of pajamas and tucking him in bed, he just stood there, watching him. There was a lot that didn’t add up.

 

“It was someone you knew, wasn’t it?”

 

“Can’t you just let go, please?”

 

“You don’t mind me dressing and undressing you, you don’t mind me touching you, you even asked me to stay in the shower with you”

 

“I’m a weirdo, what else is new?” he rolled his eyes exasperated, but Shinra continued as if he hadn’t heard him.

 

“You said it was a game… So what was it? Did you piss someone off? Did you cross one of your clients again? Were you playing with someone and it just got out of hand?” Izaya was just staring at him. “I don’t think you were attacked out of the blue. Your emotional break down is inconsistent with rape-”

 

“Will you stop saying that? It _wasn’t_ rape” the word came out with great effort, as if it had stuck in his throat. “It was a game, like I said. I _wanted_ this, ok? I – wanted – this”. Seeing Shinra’s arched eyebrows he shut his eyes tiredly. “Ok, I didn’t want _this_. I miscalculated, that’s all. I mis…judged… I…”, he swallowed a sob, “I did this to myself, are you happy now?”

 

Shinra leaned in, cupping Izaya’s hand with his.

 

“Hey…”, he waited for those fiery black irises to look at him, “you _didn’t_ do this to yourself, and you _didn’t_ deserve it either. I don’t care _what_ you did or _who_ you crossed; you _didn’t_ deserve this”. Izaya shut his eyes again, shaking his head as if he didn’t want to hear any of this. “Look at me! Izaya, look at me!” Izaya’s eyes were filled with tears, but defiance glowed bright in them. “You didn’t deserve this”, he stressed the words, slowly shaking his head at the same time.

 

“You don’t know…”

 

“I know more about you than anyone else out there”

 

Izaya chuckled – it was true. He looked up at the doctor and chose his words carefully, making sure to give out only as much information as he could afford without shattering the man’s world with his words.

 

“I _wanted_ him to break me. Ha! I wanted him to _try_ and break me. Just to prove that he couldn’t… I guess I was wrong after all… Aha! Hahahaha…”

 

That soft laughter made Shinra’s heart sink. He’d seen this story unfold one too many times in the past; Izaya’s games with savage men who never wanted anything other than to hurt him. He’d never had to tend to such serious wounds before, but he’d always feared that the day would come when someone would cross the line; Izaya had made it clear to him that there were no lines drawn, after all. Someone else might have been horrified that very first time, back when they were 16, when his friend showed up at Shinra’s with a bruised and scraped face, rope burns in his wrists and ankles, to happily announce that he’d had his first experience with a man and he was now certain he was not interested in women. Shinra had known, right at that moment, that he wasn’t interested in men either; just in the pain. He’d tented to the scrapes on his friend’s face, not bothering to ask for any details, and he’d advised him on how to deal with the minimal bleeding Izaya had told him that he had; he didn’t want Shinra to have a look at it. History would repeat itself many times in the future and the doctor would always hope that one day Izaya would find someone he truly cared about – he had a good idea who that someone might be – and stop doing this to himself. Anyone else would have been horrified, but Shinra was in love with a headless dullahan; nothing could ever horrify him.

 

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” His voice was soft, tenderly scolding him, while squeezing his hand at the same time.

 

“What do you want me to do? Find a nice girl and settle down?”

 

Shinra chuckled at the self-mockery.

 

“It doesn’t have to be a girl, you know”

 

Izaya’s expression hardened and he pulled his hand away from the doctor’s.

 

“You think you _know_ me?”

 

“I _do_ know you. I remember the way you used to watch him-”

 

“ **Don’t** – go there”

 

“Why not? You two would make a wonderful couple”, a hint of a smirk on his face.

 

“Hahaha! I think you forget who you’re talking to”

 

“No, I think _you_ forget who you’re talking to”

 

They held each other’s gaze, almost as if it was a dual. Izaya was the first one to break away.

 

“I don’t want to talk about this”

 

“Were you two ever together?”

 

“That’s none of your business!”

 

“Which means you were!”

 

“Why don’t you ask _him_ and see where that takes you?” Izaya smirked vengefully at the mental image of the blonde breaking the doctor’s face. But Shinra just smiled.

 

“I think you care about each other. And there’s nothing wrong with that”

 

“We _hate_ each other! We constantly try to kill one another! What is wrong with you?! I think you need to check your glasses!”

 

Shinra laughed goodheartedly. The informant was obviously pissed, but the fact that they were even having this conversation told him a lot.

 

“I guess you’re right. Can’t blame him though, he’s suffered quite a lot, thanks to you!”

 

And then something clicked in Izaya’s brain. His entertained dislike for the conversation dissolved into thin air, just like that. He wasn’t even angry, or hurt by those words. Apathy; that was the word to best describe his emotional state at that moment. He muttered “get out”, without even bothering to look at the man leaning over him. When Shinra didn’t move, immobilized by confusion, he raised his voice a bit, still flat and emotionless. “Get out. Get out, get out, get out”

 

Shinra had no idea what had happened, why he was being thrown out of the room, or what he had done to destroy the amicable atmosphere. But there was no way to communicate with Izaya, not when all that came out of his mouth was a toneless string of ‘get out’.

 

***

 

Much to Shinra’s disquietude, Izaya’s emotional state didn’t improve at all in the next days; he’d do his breathing exercises, walk around the room with Shinra’s support and struggle with his food and medicine, but he remained apathetic and unreachable. He hardly ever spoke – which was unsettling on its own – and whenever the doctor pushed him to do so he would just stare at him with an icy look. His sleep was still tormented and Shinra would find him crying, curled in on himself with his fists pressed against his chest every night. On the morning of the 7th day, which happened to be a Saturday, when Shinra walked in the room to see if he was awake and ask if he needed anything, Izaya asked him when he could go home.

 

[You knew he’d go home eventually. You can’t baby-sit him forever]

 

“I know, I know… I just don’t want him to go _yet_ ”

 

[He’s in perfect condition to take care of himself, is he not?]

 

Shinra sighed. “He can walk on his own, more or less, he can get out of bed and do things on his own, but I doubt he’ll take care of himself in any way. He’s been starving himself for some time, and now that he is recovering he needs to keep his body strong. I can’t let him go home, who will look after him?”

 

Celty took his hand and pulled him close to her, forcing him to put the ladle with which he had been obsessively stirring the ramen boiling in a pot down.

 

[It’s not your responsibility. He’s an adult; he can take care of himself if he wants to. If he doesn’t want to, then that’s his problem]

 

Shinra brought a hand up, pushing his glasses up with his index and pinching the ridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger.

 

“Would you be saying the same if I was the one who needed help?”

 

[He doesn’t need help]

 

Shinra sighed again and looked up at her; she wasn’t wearing her helmet, therefore there was only a thin shadow coming out of her neck. He smiled.

 

“I may not be much of a friend Celty, but I am the only one he’s got. I just want to make sure he’s ok”. There was a moment of silence before he spoke up again. “Two more days; just until Monday. I can send him home after that, his secretary will be around for the working week so she can keep an eye on him”

 

[Ok. Will you be alright?]

 

“Yes, dear. Go on, go do your job, I’ll just get his lunch ready”

 

Izaya was sitting up on the bed, his gaze fixed somewhere in front of him; the book Celty had brought for him from his apartment was lying on the side table by the bed, untouched – he preferred staring at the void for hours. Shinra put the book aside and set the bowl of ramen on the table, stuffing the spare pillow behind his friend’s back. He then picked up the bowl and handed it to him, but Izaya only glanced at it before letting his gaze drift back to that invisible spot in the void of the room he had been so intently looking at for days.

 

“You need to eat”

 

There was no reply, but Izaya shifted a bit on the bed, as if he was trying to widen the space between him and the doctor.

 

“Izaya! Are you listening to me?” He set the bowl on the table again and brought his hand to the informant’s face, to pull him towards him, but Izaya snapped and pushed him away violently. His eyes were throwing daggers as they fixed on Shinra.

 

“I want my knife back!”

 

The doctor was stunned by that violent reaction. He leaned back and put his hands in his pockets, watching the man. He expected to be happy when Izaya would finally snap out of his apathy.

 

“You don’t need it in here, you’re safe”

 

“Ha! Safe from whom? You?”

 

Shinra watched him for a moment; the malice in his voice was a quality he had almost forgotten about, but it was all coming back to him now - this was exactly the man he knew.

 

“You’ll get your knife and your phone when you leave this place. Now eat your food”

 

Izaya took one look at the bowl and grimaced. “I don’t like ramen”

 

“Are you angry at me for some reason?”

 

There was no reply, but a very familiar half-smirk settled on the informant’s face. Shinra knew that it was a mask, and a very rigid one. Whenever Izaya was faced with something he didn’t wish to deal with, he’d just put on this particular mask, the cruel half-smirk, and keep silent. It could drive the doctor crazy. He picked the bowl up and turned to leave, but Izaya’s voice stopped him.

 

“You know I have hired Yagiri Namie as my personal assistant, right?” Shinra turned on his heels to look at him. “Then you must know I have your beloved’s head in my possession, right?” The doctor didn’t dignify that question with an answer, but Izaya didn’t need one; he could read it in his eyes that he indeed knew. “How do you think she’d feel, if she found out that you knew all along and kept it from her? Would she reconsider her love for you?”

 

“Why do you hate me so much? All I ever did was help you”

 

“And I will pay you every yen for your help”

 

“I don’t want your money”

 

“What _do_ you want then? My love?” he spat the word as if it tasted bitter.

 

Shinra shook his head disappointed. “You’re not human enough to know what love is, Izaya”

 

The words grabbed him by the neck, but he kept his mask up; his smirk didn’t falter for a second.

 

… _Not human enough… Right, Shizu-chan, I’m not human enough…_

“What do you think she’d do if she found her head? Would she stay here with you? Would she turn down her nature, her memories of centuries, to share your pathetic life with you? With a man who would cheat, kill and lie –even to her- to keep her next to him?”

 

Shinra was hearing the words, but they didn’t register. Izaya was being cruel; nothing new there. He was probably doing it on purpose, anyway; riling him up to fight the boredom. A question popped up in his mind. He’d been meaning to ask that question ever since that morning, ever since he heard Shizuo’s name coming from Izaya’s stitched up lips. The only reason he hadn’t yet asked it was because he didn’t want to embarrass his friend; but there were no more friends of his in that room.

 

“Shizuo”, he started by just saying the name that seemed to make the informant’s skin crawl these days, and he watched Izaya’s expression harden, his smirk intact. “You were calling his name out in your dream the other day. And it wasn’t a bad dream, it was a good one, as a matter of fact it was a wet one”

 

Izaya pretended to not have heard a word as he went on. “I’m the only reason she’s still with you; as long as I keep her head away from her, she has no reason to leave-”

 

Shinra cut him off, speaking on top of his voice, forcing him to stop and listen. “Were you two together? Celty told me you haven’t been fighting in the streets for over a year now, so I guess whatever happened between you two, it happened about a year ago… What happened then? Did you fuck it up, like you always do? Did you drive him nuts? Or maybe he just realized you were not worth it?”

 

He hadn’t meant to say that, the words just flew out of his mouth. They seemed to have an effect though; Izaya’s smirk turned even more cruel while his eyes turned into slits.

 

“See, _that_ is your currency, my dear friend, Shinra. I told you; everyone has a price. Even if you don’t want my money, you still accept my services in keeping her by your side”. He smiled triumphantly, as if he had just delivered his enemy a lethal blow. “You will always owe me more that I owe you!”

 

Shinra watched him silently, contempt flooding his heart and his expression; Izaya seemed to be entertained by the sight. Even his voice was filled with it when he spoke up, slowly and quietly, like he was mourning their friendship with those words.

 

“How foolish of me… Shizuo would never touch you, not if you were the only person left on this planet. You’re a pest, just like he’s always said”

 

Izaya’s smirk widened in satisfaction. He was enjoying the hatred that emerged in the doctor’s voice.

 

“You know, I used to think that you are the way you are, because no one ever loved you. But I guess I was wrong after all; it’s the other way around. No one can ever love you, _because_ you are the way you are”

 

The sound of those words wrapped around Izaya’s heart and squeezed it tight. But he refused to let his mask slip. He cocked his head to the side, smirking up at the man who had been his only friend since childhood. His greatest talent had always been this - not information gathering, not mind games, not parkour or handling knives, but this; making people hate him. Shinra left the room without another word, taking the bowl of ramen with him. And Izaya was left alone, feeling cold and empty. He took a deep breath, enjoying the pain in his chest, and slowly let the air out, his lower lip trembling, but only slightly. Shinra stormed back in the room, carrying the informant’s mobile and switchblade. He slammed them down on the side table and looked at Izaya, his eyes cold and hostile.

 

“I trust you can pack your bag and call a taxi on your own. I don’t want to find you here when I come back” and he disappeared, slamming the door of the apartment behind him a few moments later.

 

Izaya smiled at himself. Yes, this was indeed his greatest talent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Shinra/Izaya chapter and I 'm sorry if I disappointed you by making Shinra cruel towards the end. I tried to fit it all in one final chapter and ended up cutting a few things, I hope it's all still coherent and consistent!


	16. Just another day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All I ever wanted was to make us both happy. But you’re immune to happiness, aren’t you?

This city stinks. This whole place is rotten. It gets on my nerves; this stench, this noise, this constant babble of meaningless existence. 

 

Ten days. That’s how long it’s been. Ten long days, ten terrifying nights. The whole city is constantly murmuring his name, taking guesses at where he is, why he’s disappeared, what’s happened to him. It scares me, how satisfied they all are that he’s gone, no longer roaming the streets and playing with people’s lives. Perhaps I should have expected it. Even if he were to be found dead in some alley, finally taken down by the same people he’s repeatedly screwed over, no one would mourn for him. Except for Shinra perhaps. That’s my only reassurance; if Shinra didn’t know where he is, he would have turned the city upside down to find him; which would include a visit to my place to ask me whether I’ve finally killed him. So that’s where he must be. It’s comforting to know that he’s being taken care of. 

 

 _Comforting_ … Damn… 

 

No wonder the city stinks when I walk the streets like nothing ever happened. _I am_ what’s rotten in this city. I am the source of this stench; me, my disgusting hypocrisy every time I shrug my shoulders in reply to the question ‘ _where has Orihara Izaya gone_ ’. How on Earth should I know?

 

I flick my lighter in my hand, thinking about lighting a cigarette. I smoke less and less these days; I dread that reddish glow flickering before my eyes, it reminds me too much of his gaze. Fuck it. It’s just a flame, it’s not him, even though he burns me like fire, still, after everything that happened. I light that cigarette and I draw a long inhale of bitter smoke, watching the flame flicker so elegantly… _just as elegantly as he’d stretch his body out on my bed, as elegantly as he’d arch his head back, parting his lips to let out a sigh…_ I don’t have the right to reminisce those nights, not after what I’ve done to him. I don’t have the right to wish he’ll show up some day, unexpected, uninvited, to flash that taunting smirk and laugh in my face, to draw his slender fingers through my hair, to brush his soft lips against mine… _Soft lips_ … Those painfully chapped lips, smeared with blood, torn and aching no doubt, pressed in a tight line as his body jerked against the wall of my living room… If I ever get to see him again, all he’ll have for me will be a sharp blade; nothing more. 

 

I would gladly take that blade, if it meant I could see his face again. 

 

I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew what to expect. There’s no excuse for what happened that night, no excuse. If I could turn back time I would… fuck it, I’d do the same all over again. Because I am a monster. Because I can’t control myself when anger takes over. 

 

_Because you wanted me to hurt you Izaya - you came to me asking to be broken and when I granted your wish you hated me for it. All I ever wanted was to make us both happy. But you’re immune to happiness, aren’t you?_

Fuck! My hands are aching for some contact with human flesh. I can’t have the contact I want, not with the man I want it, so I just fantasize about beating the crap out of random people. Dead, I want them all dead! The cashier who hands me my cigarettes – dead! The thugs in the streets, ranting about knowing where Orihara Izaya is and who ‘got him’ – dead! The scums Tom tries to get his money from – dead! Next door neighbor – dead! Louses on The Dollars webpage, gossiping about anything and everything, Izaya’s disappearance being their most favorite topic these days – dead! Bus drivers, random passers-by, children in parks, babies in prams – deadeadeadeadeadeadeadeadeadeadeadDEAD!  
  
They piss me off! They all do! Every living creature in this city pisses me off! Everyone who thinks life in Tokyo would be so much better if Orihara Izaya never showed up again, if he stayed dead or gone or whatever the hell, just far away from here! DEAD, they’re all fucking dead!

 

“Oi! Are you coming?”

 

Tom. Tom’s voice. My anchor to sanity. I’m coming, sure. Everything’s fine, just another day at work. Just another pointless day in this stinky town. 

 

***

 

The doorbell was ringing persistently. Izaya tiredly fluttered his eyes open and scanned the room; the walls, the furniture around him, the couch he was lying in, the sunlight coming in through the large window walls. He wasn’t in Ikebukuro… in the beast’s apartment… in Shizu-chan’s arms… _Damned pills_ … He stood up with great effort and stumbled to the door, rubbing his eyes with the back of his still bandaged right hand. 

 

“ **Alright! I’m coming!** ”

 

He flung the door open to an annoyed and impatient Namie. She let her eyes travel all the way down the skinny figure standing at the other side of the door, noticing the way the clothes hang from the man’s body, like they had been borrowed by someone considerably larger than him (although they were undoubtedly his own clothes) and the way he hunched his back to lean his whole weight against the door, and then set them back on the man’s still bruised face.

 

“Either give me my keys back or make sure you’re ready for work when I show up in the morning. Next time you keep me waiting I’ll call it a paid holiday and go spend my time with my brother instead!”

 

Despite the glare Izaya gave her, he was glad to see her again. There was something about the way her gaze only briefly passed over his injuries, not lingering for a single moment, and then fixed on his eyes that made him feel like nothing had ever happened. 

 

“I’m sure your brother has better things to do, than spend the day with you!”

 

Her eyes turned into slits, but she walked in the apartment and headed for her desk without a word. She picked up her keys, which were lying on the surface of her desk, and dropped them in her bag, before walking over to the coffee counter to make herself a cup of coffee. 

 

“Make sure you give the janitor a set of keys. I’d rather not have to meet your lovers at 5 in the morning”

 

“Oh please! I have no interest in such common men!”

 

“Is that so?” she turned around to look at him, allowing her gaze to drift over every single bruise on the man’s face, lingering long enough to irritate him. “It doesn’t look like you had much say in who you spread your legs for this time”

 

Whatever reaction she had expected, she didn’t seem the least surprised when Izaya burst into entertained laughter. She poured two cups of coffee and walked back to her desk, setting one of them on the furniture and handing the other one to her employer. 

 

“I have to say I was rather disappointed to receive your text. As much as I enjoy having someone to pay my check every month, it was fun trying to figure out what had happened to you”, she walked to her desk and took a seat, crossing her legs and pretending to be busy going over the pile of files waiting for her.

 

“Rumors going wild?” Izaya sipped his coffee contentedly. He enjoyed the idea of people caring enough to wonder where he was, even though he had no illusions as to the nature of those rumors or people’s interest. Namie hummed in confirmation. 

 

“My personal favorite was the one that said you’d been slashed by the slasher and turned into a mindless servant. Knowing you, that would have been the most terrifying outcome, no?” Izaya was just smirking at her. “Not that the thought of you getting tortured, brutally murdered or gang raped wasn’t fun…”

 

Izaya chuckled. Unlike Shinra’s thoughtful words, Namie’s venomous comments made him feel at ease.

 

“Sorry to disappoint you!” She didn’t look at him or acknowledge his presence in any way, so Izaya just walked over to his desk and stood by his chair, knowing that if he dared sit down the pain would undoubtedly make him groan. “Get someone to clean the upstairs bathroom for me. Someone discreet. And this… laptop…”, he took a long pause, hearing the words in his mind as if someone had actually spoken them to him -  _we were all made out of love and we all deserve love_ – and Namie turned to look at the device he was talking about.

 

“Should I get it fixed?”

 

“No… no, don’t get it fixed…” he seemed lost in his thoughts, staring at the broken device as if it was contaminated. “Just… throw it away for me, I don’t want it in here”, and he walked back to the couch, setting his cup on the coffee table and sitting down with clenched teeth, holding his breath. Namie watched him for a couple of moments and then snorted disparagingly, picking up the phone to call some cleaning agency.


	17. The things that we are made of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are not born evil; we are the things we are made of. It’s hard for anyone to know what love and kindness are, if they’ve never actually received any of it.

When Celty returned home late that Saturday evening, she walked straight to the back room knowing that Shinra spent all of his free time there, silently watching Izaya sleep or stare at the wall. The door was drawn, but not entirely shut, so she just gave it a light push and it creaked open revealing the empty bed. Shinra was sitting in the armchair; elbows propped on his knees, fingers laced together under his chin, eyes sullenly watching the empty bed. She straddled the distance between them swiftly, tapping on her PDA.

 

[What happened? Where is Izaya?]

 

She held the device in front of his face, but instead of reading the message, Shinra raised his eyes to look at her. His expression was painfully sad – which only intensified her bad feeling.

 

“Hey you”, his voice completely drained of energy, “it’s always nice to see you”. He smiled, but that curve of his lips communicated nothing but pain and sent Celty kneeling in front of him, literally shoving the PDA in his face to force him to read the message. Shinra caught her hand by the wrist and pushed the device a bit further from his eyes, so he could actually read the letters on the screen.

 

“He went home”, his eyes drifted back towards the bed.

 

[But why? Is everything ok? I thought he’d stay until Monday!]

 

She didn’t have to force him to read the message the second time, but he still didn’t seem to be up for a conversation. He read the sentences on the screen and sighed.

 

“I threw him out”

 

He didn’t offer any explanations, nor did he bother look at her. He kept staring at the bed with a solemn look, almost as if he was mourning for someone. Celty was happy to finally be alone in the apartment with him - no Izaya there to keep him up all night and worry him 24/7. But this felt wrong; Shinra’s foul mood suggested something had happened.

 

[I thought he needed help]

 

Shinra read the message and shut his eyes, bringing a hand up to rub his forehead as if those five words had caused him a severe headache.

 

“He’s beyond help, Celty”, and just as she was about to ask what that was supposed to mean, he chuckled bitterly leaning forward in the armchair, lacing his fingers together in front of him, elbows still propped on his knees, like he was about to solve some tricky problem in his mind. “It’s all my fault, you know. I should have helped him when I could, now it’s just... it’s too late, just too late”, he was shaking his head, negating some question he had only asked in the depths of his mind. Celty tapped on her PDA and, extending it to his face, brought her other hand up to gently squeeze his knee.

 

[I don’t know what you’re talking about]

 

Shinra furrowed his brow regretfully.

 

“He wasn’t always like this. He was pretty much normal when I first met him. I don’t know what happened to him, what… changed him. I don’t know. When I met him again at Raira he was just… different, he was… dammit, he was gone already!”

 

[Whatever happened to him, it was not your fault. You weren’t even around when it happened]

 

Instead of comforting him, her words seemed to distress him even further.

 

“That’s exactly my point, Celty; I wasn’t there, I wasn’t there for him. He never had any friends - he was constantly surrounded by people, everyone acted as if they adored him, both our classmates and our teachers – but he was actually alone, he never had anyone, he went back to an empty home and he had no one to talk to. I always had you; even if there was no one else I could talk to, I could still come home to you… You don’t know what it was like for him, you don’t know what _he_ was like-”

 

Celty couldn’t really understand what it was that Shinra was so frustrated about, and the man’s rambling didn’t help much. She tried to interrupt his incomprehensible monologue with a self-evident statement.

 

[It was not your fault that he was alone]

 

“I was the only one he had”, he slowed down after reading the message. “I should have helped him back then… only I didn’t care enough to help him”. Celty watched him bury his face in his hands and left the PDA on the floor to hold both his knees with her hands and almost hug his legs with her arms, trying to comfort him. Shinra was slowly shaking his head and after a moment he started mumbling, more to himself than to her: “I threw him out! I threw him out – why? Because he spoke the truth! Dammit, I hate that he can be so cruel!” He raised his head to look at the bed as if the person he was speaking to was right there, looking back at him, “ **You don’t like it all that much when people tell _you_ the truth, do you?** ”, and then he buried his face in his hands again, laughing at himself. “Oh god, I’m talking to an empty bed!”

 

Celty let go to get her PDA again, [I don’t know what happened between you two, but I’m sure whatever it was, it wasn’t your fault!], and then tugged on his hand to get him to read it. He obeyed, and after reading those few words he smiled at her.

 

“I know you don’t like him very much – don’t deny it, I don’t blame you! But he’s not that bad… He’s hurt, that’s all. He’s bitter because he’s hurt, and he destroys everything and everyone around him because he’s damaged; he can’t help it!” Even though Celty had no face for him to read her expression on, he knew instantly that she was staring at him in disbelief. “Don’t give me that look now! I’m not trying to justify all the nasty things he’s done. I’m just saying that things are hardly ever that simple; I know he’s not very nice, but he’s not pure evil either. People are not born evil; we are the things we are made of. It’s hard for anyone to know what love and kindness are, if they’ve never actually received any of it”.

 

She loved listening to him lecturing her about things she wasn’t supposed to know or care about. She could have argued that Shinra himself had never received any love or kindness from his father, but she didn’t want to aggravate him, not when he had finally gone back to being the calm, easygoing man she knew. After all, as he had said himself, he’d always had _her_ by his side; even though his father was undoubtedly a terrible man, Shinra had always had Celty to cover the emptiness in his heart. Perhaps Izaya had never found anyone to fill that hole. She brought a hand up to caress the side of his face with her cold, slender fingers, and he smiled at her, carefully picking up her helmet and leaving it down on the floor.

 

“You’re so beautiful!” The slight shudder of her shoulders told him she was giggling, embarrassed by his words. He pulled her closer and squeezed her in his arms, letting out a long sigh. “I love you, Celty. You make me so happy. I can’t lose you, ever! Whatever I have to do to keep you close, I’ll do it. I’ll never let go!”

 

She didn’t like the desperate tone of his voice or the way he squeezed her like he wanted to suffocate her. She didn’t complain though; she could almost say she felt the same way herself. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, wondering what it was that Izaya had told him to frustrate him like that. No matter what Shinra said, the informant was still a horrible man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another short filler. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> >In case you haven't realised it yet, I am a hardcore Izaya fan! I love him, love him, LOVE HIM!, and I don't see any fault in him =D


	18. Haven't you heard?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Haven’t you heard?] 
> 
> He just gave her a puzzled look. 
> 
> [He’s back]

At 6pm the park was filled with all kinds of people; students, children, gang members, old ladies and young couples. The sun was still shining bright, and it should sparkle on the sleek black motorbike; only it didn’t. Celty’s shadowy bike absorbed all light, just like her suit and her helmet. She rode across the park, looking for a quiet spot where she could spend her spare time until her next job later in the evening. Under different circumstances, she would have returned home to spend what little time she had with Shinra. But since Izaya had left the apartment, 4 days earlier, Shinra was never in the mood to do anything but sulk.

 

She spotted a relatively quiet area and was headed towards that direction when she caught glimpse of bleached hair. The man she’d noticed was sitting at the far end of the park with his back to her, and his building looked very familiar - only Shizuo should be working at this time, not sitting around in parks on his own. She sped up towards the man’s direction, sensing that something was terribly wrong. Once she got near him, her bad feeling was confirmed; the man was indeed Shizuo - his head drooped between his shoulders, cigarette hanging from his mouth - and his shirt was covered in blood. Celty jumped off the bike and rushed by his side, tapping on her PDA and extending it to him, at the same time bringing her other hand up to tug on his sleeve and get him to look at her.

 

Shizuo was too deep in his thoughts to notice anyone approaching. When he felt someone tug on his shirt, the blood automatically rushed to his head and sent him raging, grabbing the person’s arms and applying enough force to send whomever had dared lay a hand on him flying across the park. He was surprised to find that the person who had dared disturb him had not moved an inch; as a matter of fact, she wasn’t just standing imperiously in front of him, feet set on the asphalt rock-steady, but was even holding him still with something… some kind of black, cold… shadows?

 

“Celty?”

 

The shadows dissolved instantly and she shoved the PDA in his face.

 

[What happened to you? Are you hurt? Should I take you to Shinra?]

 

He tried to fight his embarrassment at having attacked his best friend and answer the question as calmly and properly as he could.

 

“I’m fine, it’s not _my_ blood”

 

She cocked her helmet to the side, as if disappointed at the implication of those words.

 

[You shouldn’t get into fights, Shizuo. It’s too dangerous]

 

“I know, I know…” He gave her a guilty look, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat back down on the bench. “Sorry I attacked you - I’m a bit on edge today. I won’t take any more crap from anyone!”

 

She scanned the area, looking for her friend’s boss, but couldn’t seem to locate him.

 

[Where’s Tom?]

 

Shizuo looked guiltier by the minute.

 

“He’s not around. Told me to get the rest of today, as well as tomorrow, off… to cool down and gather my wits… whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean”, he took a drag from his cigarette and then flicked it away, clearly annoyed.

 

[Was he angry at you?]

 

He read the message but didn’t seem to understand the question. Celty nodded at his direction before tapping on the device again.

 

[For beating someone up like that. Was he angry at you?]

 

“I don’t think he’s ever been angry at me. Just…disappointed, I guess. Which is even worse, if you ask me”

 

She sat down next to him, leaving enough space between them so as not to aggravate him, and tapped on her PDA again.

 

[What happened?]

 

Shizuo sighed lighting another cigarette. He took his time before answering, dropping the lighter back in his pocket and taking a couple long drags of smoke.

 

“I just lost it – smashed this guy’s face on the pavement”

 

[What?! Is he alright?]

 

“He’s fine, Tom called an ambulance and told me to get the hell away from there”, he brought a hand up to rub his temples. “The bastard had the nerve to tell me I was the reason he couldn’t pay back the money he’d borrowed – me!” and he breathed a string of curses before dragging on his cigarette.

 

[How is it your fault that he couldn’t pay back?]

 

Shizuo read the message and let his gaze drift away.

 

“He said he was using Izaya’s services to extort money from his former employer – sounds like something the louse would do”, Celty noticed that his voice carried more nostalgia rather than hatred in it, but chose not to comment. “Rumor has it I killed the bastard – one of them, at least! This guy had the nerve to tell me I killed him before he could get the information he needed! Fuck, I should have just killed him right there!” He snapped the cigarette in his fingers, but before he could do anything else Celty cupped his hand with hers. He snapped at her direction, his right eyebrow twitching menacingly, but calmed down almost instantly when his eyes met her deep black helmet. He took a few deep breaths to cool down and then chuckled, taking out another cigarette and lighting it. “I can’t fucking stand it anymore. He’s nowhere to be seen, and yet he’s ever present. The whole fucking city is breathing his name – **isn’t there anything else to talk about?** ” he shouted that last one, sending the people around them scattering further away in the park.

 

[Haven’t you heard?]

 

He just gave her a puzzled look.

 

[He’s back]

 

“…Izaya?”

 

She nodded, typing another message.

 

[It’s all over the internet, someone saw him in Shinjuku this morning]

 

“I don’t use the fucking internet! So he’s back home?”

 

She nodded again, wondering why on earth he seemed so happy when all he ever wanted was for Izaya to disappear. Her thoughts were cut short when he grabbed her by the shoulders, carelessly dropping his only just lit cigarette to the ground, and turned her abruptly towards him.

 

“You mean to tell me he’s at his place in Shinjuku right now, as we speak?!”

 

[Yes, he’s back home!]

 

[But please don’t go after him, he’s not in a very good condition]

 

Shizuo narrowed his eyes reading that last sentence. He let go of her, searching his pocket for another cigarette.

 

“Celty…I need to ask you something, but you have to keep this conversation to yourself! You cannot tell Shinra or anyone else about it!”

 

She nodded, feeling uncertain as to whether she wanted to have this conversation at all. She had already promised Shinra to not tell anyone about Izaya’s condition, and keeping one secret was enough of a burden already.

 

“I know that he was at your place all this time-”, Celty started shaking her helmet but he went on. “You don’t need to tell me, I know it already. He came in…” he seemed to struggle with whatever word he had in mind, “… hurt… he came in _hurt_ about a week ago… I just want you to tell me if he’s alright now”.

 

She shouldn’t answer his question - she knew she shouldn’t. It would be the same as admitting the fact that Izaya was indeed hurt, and she had promised not to tell anyone. But his eyes and his voice were pleading with her and, for whatever reason, this seemed to be very important to him. She brought her PDA up and took her time tapping on it, carefully choosing her words.

 

[I’m not sure ‘alright’ is the right word, but his wounds have started healing and he’s in a much better condition now]

 

His expression sunk into a frown. _Was Izaya that much hurt? He’d lost some blood, but it didn’t seem all that serious._ Shizuo had suffered all kinds of injuries and pain in his life and he’d learned to take them lightly; his body healed on its own very quickly - there were very few injuries that could prove fatal or even dangerous to him. He concluded that, if Izaya was well enough to return home, he was just fine.

 

And he was back home, in Shinjuku…

 

He sprang up to his feet.

 

“I need to go someplace, sorry”

 

Celty watched him as he walked away hurriedly and couldn’t help wondering how he knew about Izaya getting hurt. The informant hadn’t told a soul, there was no doubt about that. The only people who knew about what had happened were Izaya himself, Shinra, Celty and whomever else had helped him that night, and the person who had hurt him.


	19. All I need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was too upset to get a train and anyway he needed to walk, to feel the breeze on his face, to clear his mind and fill it with nothing but the flea – to fill himself with thoughts of the man he would never be allowed to lay a hand on again; it was the closest thing to being with him.

Shizuo walked all the way to Shinjuku with nothing but a name in his mind; _Izaya_. He didn’t stop to think about what he’d do when he got there, or what he’d say to Izaya if they were to come face to face. All he cared about was seeing him, confirming with his own two eyes that he was indeed back, that he was ok. He was too upset to get a train and anyway he needed to walk, to feel the breeze on his face, to clear his mind and fill it with nothing but _the flea_ – to fill himself with thoughts of the man he would never be allowed to lay a hand on again; it was the closest thing to being with him. When he made it in front of the building where Izaya’s apartment was situated it was already dark. He hovered around the entrance for a while, wondering whether he should just take his chances and knock on the man’s door – not that taking his chances had done him much good up until now - but soon decided against it. He crossed the street and stood on the sidewalk at the other side, where he could watch the upper floor unnoticed. The lights were on in Izaya’s office, but the room could not be seen from street level. All Shizuo could do was watch the window walls hoping that the man he was craving and raging for would sooner or later show up.

 

He’d never been inside that apartment, but in the 15 months that they’d been sleeping together he’d often wondered what it must look like. Organized and impersonal, most probably – just like Izaya himself. He secretly wished he was wrong; both about the apartment and Izaya. He kept hoping that he’d be proven wrong, that the man wasn’t as empty and dead inside as he’d come to believe. ‘Empty’ was probably far from the truth, anyway. The informant wasn’t at all empty, quite the contrary; he was brimming with pain and resentment, bitterness and self-contempt. Shizuo couldn’t even start to understand the source of all this suffering, but he had been given a few clues in the past year or so. Loneliness could do that to you – he knew it for a fact. Dead inside, then. That was closer to the truth. Perhaps not even completely dead inside yet; but steadily and methodically strangling everything good inside him, dragging everyone who cared about him along.

 

He leaned against the wall, lighting one cigarette after the other, his eyes fixed on the lit up surface of the windows. He could sense Izaya on the other side of the glass, he could almost catch his scent in the air. There was something disturbing about that whole situation; he shouldn’t be there, he knew he shouldn’t, but couldn’t help himself. The urge to climb the stairs of that building and knock on the man’s door was overwhelming. But Shizuo couldn’t do that; he couldn’t do that to Izaya, not after what had happened. If the informant wanted to see him, he knew where to find him. He’d probably want to revenge him; no one got to reduce Izaya to a common human, scared and begging, and walk away with it. But Shizuo didn’t mind. Let the flea find him. Let him destroy his life in any way he wanted. What good was his life if he couldn’t touch him, anyway?

 

His body was aching for another contact with that silky skin and yet he still wasn’t sure how he’d feel upon seeing him again. There was still anger simmering inside him. Taking a step back and reliving the whole thing in his mind, it wasn’t hard for him to understand that Izaya had given him the only answers he could have that night. Not necessarily the true ones, but the ones that hurt his pride less. He hated himself for losing it, for hurting that beautiful skin, for ravaging that hole where he wanted to bury himself forever. He was scum; end of story. He didn’t deserve to ever see or touch him again. He didn’t deserve to breathe the same air with him, hell, he didn’t even deserve to dream of him!

 

_You played me Izaya. You played me that night, right before my eyes, and I fell for it._

 

Was this whole story just a game to the informant? Yes, it probably was. But maybe it was a game different form the ones they used to play. Maybe Izaya himself didn’t understand what he was playing with or for. The man was a compulsive gambler, Shizuo had easily come to that conclusion; only he didn’t gamble for money, there was no fun there. No, Izaya gambled with lives and souls - his included. And that horrible night he looked like he had lost his.

 

He wanted him. He wanted to see him and hold him and yes, he wanted to fuck him as well, even though his own desire made him feel sick after what had happened. Denying the fact wouldn’t make his desire disappear though. All these days, with guilt crushing him and people whispering Izaya’s name, he could feel him there by his side, he could see him in every passer-by, in every dark corner of the street, in every fur-trimmed coat strolling around Ikebukuro; he could feel his thin lips smirking against his skin, he could feel his breath in his ear, as if the man was whispering to him. He _had_ to see him. But he couldn’t risk hurting him – not again. He’d have to wait, for as long as it took.

 

It was already well into the small hours of the night and Shizuo was standing among a heap of cigarette butts by the time the familiar slim figure appeared behind the window. He couldn’t make out his features from that distance, but he was there, black clothes and all. _So you can’t sleep at nights either, huh?_ \- he thought to himself as he dropped his cigarette to the ground and squashed it with his shoe. He stood there, his head craned to get a better view of that delicate, dark figure looming over the city like some insane roman emperor watching the flames that swallowed his kingdom up. _Just like the first time I saw you,_ he smiled nostalgically. _Just knowing that you’re there, Izaya. It’s all I need; to know that you’re there._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally part of a larger chapter, but I've decided to cut it down into two pieces, because I think it makes more sense if they're separate. It's very small, but I find it intense, so I hope you'll forgive the short length :) I'm sorry if I tricked you into believing they'd meet up in this chapter: the time is not right yet. But they will meet up again very very soon! ;)
> 
> -PendulumDeath, you were right, he hasn't gone completely insane yet! Oh, and now you really have to update Blind Fury! :P


	20. A beautiful day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wonderful day, really! The sun shines bright and the buzz of people sounds like music in my ears. Some days, this city is so beautiful!

What a beautiful day! My first day off in a long long time.

 

I almost killed someone yesterday. I guess I’d normally feel bad, but today I can’t be bothered. I finally have a whole day to myself, to spend it peacefully under the sun; no need for violence - no property damage, no bodily harm. So here I am, dragging on my cigarette in Nishiguchi park, sprawled out in the sun. Like a dog, Izaya would tease me.

 

Izaya… The lousy bastard! So he really is back!

 

A wonderful day, really! The sun shines bright and the buzz of people sounds like music in my ears. Some days, this city is so beautiful! It reminds me of sunny holidays from my childhood, lying in the grass with my mother and my little brother, watching the clouds change shapes, dreaming about what life would be like… long before it was all shattered to pieces by a fridge held high above my head. Life can be so funny. If it wasn’t for this ridiculous strength of mine he would have probably never bothered look at me twice. I would have never been granted permission to hold him, I would have never been granted access to his life. If it wasn’t for this ridiculous strength of mine though, he might have been able to love me. I would have been just another human being, another one of his beloved lab rats. Only he doesn’t really love his lab rats, does he?

 

_It was all worth it, you know. The pain, the guilt, the loneliness, the scared looks by complete strangers in the street, who only knew me through my murderous rampages, the fear of destroying everything I dared touch. It was all worth it; just to be able to hold you, even if it was only twice. Whatever you want Izaya, I’ll gladly give it to you. Whatever it is, I don’t care. I will be your slave if you want me to, your lover, your bodyguard, your toy, your servant, anything. I will learn to control myself, to hold back, to take your words and your blows smiling. And if I ever fail again you have my permission to kill me, to plunge your blade in my heart and bleed me dry. I don’t want this life anymore, it means nothing without you. I’m giving my life up for you, take it! But perhaps you no longer want it._

 

I close my eyes and crane my head back to feel the sun on my face. Ah! Such a beautiful day! Is it too bold of me to imagine that he’s sitting next to me? Who gives a damn if it is? Dreams don’t cost nothin’. I can smell him; the scent of his skin, like a mixture of soap and spices. I can feel him lying down on the bench with his head resting on my legs, almost as real as the sun burning my skin. His short silky bangs; always so neat-

 

“Oi! ‘r you Shizuo Heiwajima?”

 

_Who the fuck…?_

 

“Oi! Are you listening?”

 

“Hey man, that ain’t Heiwajima, I told you he always wears a bartender get up”

 

“Chill man, maybe he wanted to change his style or somethin’!”

 

The crude joke is followed by a string of cackles. Brings back memories of ignorant fools who always chose me to pick on at school. Too bad for them!

 

“ **Oi**! Are you fucking dead, man?!”

 

 _Who the fuck has the nerve to kick my fucking boot?!_ I peep an eye open to glare at five young punks, barely in their twenties. They’re just kids really, but the intricate tattoos down the arms of their leader, the smartass who dared kick me, leave no doubt; lower-rank yakuza. Either too young or just too unintelligent, but still the kind of people even I shouldn’t mess with. A growl might be enough to scare these tough-playing kids away.

 

“Get going”

 

“See? I told ya that’s him!”

 

That smile holds something sinister. Why can’t I be left alone to enjoy my fucking day off?

 

“What the fuck do you want?”

 

“Hey, that’s no way to speak to a man of muh status, ‘f ya know what I mean”

 

He flashes those painted arms of his, like a fucking trophy, and his pals giggle like fucking 12-year-olds. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Keep your cool, dammit, it’s just stupid kids.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“We just came here to express our admiration”, the little bastard takes a mocking bow, that sinister smile plastered across his face. Go fuck yourself you little brat. What the…! He actually has the nerve to sit down next to me? Stretching his arms out on the back of the bench, like he hasn’t even noticed me? Yakuza or not, this boy is pissing me off! “Word on the street has it Orihara Izaya is back – and badly hurt” a revolting wink directed at me. “Rumor has it Heiwajima Shizuo got him!” another string of giggles from his comrades, cut short by my murderous glare. “But I ain’t buying that. Nah, Heiwajima would have finished the job, am I right?” _Better take my glare for an answer, unless you want my boot up your ass._ “Ha! Maybe I’m wrong! Who gives a fuck who got him, anyway? The thing is, he’s an easy target now; like a sitting duck”. _No no no no no…_

 

“Shut your trap and get lost”

 

“Easy now! I ain’t the enemy here! Ha! I’m your best fuckin’ friend! I even have a present for you. Me and my homies are gonna have some fun with that skinny piece of shit; I thought you might wan’ a piece of him yourself”

 

_Fuck this!_

 

“Hey man, where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

 

I start walking away and don’t stop until I feel the blade on the side of my neck, pressing against my jugular.

 

“ _Nobody_ walks away from me. I ain’t done talking yet”

 

 _You just signed your fucking death sentence kid_. I turn to look at him and he seems so full of himself; he thinks he’s beat the infamous Shizuo Heiwajima, the monster of this city.

 

“Make it quick”

 

His expression turns playful – he enjoys his own words a bit too much for his own good.

 

“He goes on strolls, early in the morning, before the sun rises. They say they’ve seen him limping – he’s grown weak. That scum has played all kinds of tricks with our people” – _way to go, Izaya, for screwing with the yakuza_ – “and now it’s time for him to pay”. He spits the word in my face and then pulls up that disturbing smile again. “The world would be a better place without that Orihara filth in it, am I right?”

 

_You think you know what I’m thinking, you piece of shit. You couldn’t have been more mistaken._

 

“So let me get this straight; you want me to help you get him?” His smile grows into an insane grin that splits his ugly face in two. “What for? ‘r you too scared to face a man who’s already hurt and weak on your own?”

 

“Nah! I can get one of muh boys to shoot the asshole, but I’d rather catch him alive, ya know? Wanna have some fun with him first. He’s weak, but I ain’t gonna underestimate him. He knows his way around with knives too fucking well. So you catch him for me and I’ll give you a present; you get to fuck him first”

 

As if his words alone were not enough, he winks at me, the sleazy bastard, his _homies_ actually cheering him. _You’d better run fast._

“Rape, huh?”

 

“It ain’t rape if he enjoys it. And trust me, he enjoys it too fucking much, the little bitch. I bet his hole is loose from all the hard banging, but I don’t fucking mind; I wan’ a piece of that skinny ass! There ain’t no better way to kill someone than to slit their throat and let them bleed out screaming while you’re tearing their insides apart!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The most observant of the bystanders had seen it coming. All the warning signs were there; the stiff posture, the crazy look, the split in two cigarette and the twitching eyebrow. The kid himself was probably the only one who hadn’t noticed, carried away by his own premature boasting. It started with a menacing growl - “ _hitting a man when he’s down; you must know that’s low_ ” – and before the boy could even dream of replying a nearby lamppost was uprooted with almost no effort at all and thrown his direction. It missed its target, but startled the boy enough to render him immobile. Shizuo grabbed him by the neck and started strangling him, spitting curses and threats in his face. The boy’s friends were frozen at their spots, mouths agape and eyes wide with terror. One of them fleeted as soon as Ikebukuro’s monster turned to growl at the gathering crowd “ _who else around here wants to touch what’s mine?_ ”, the other three slowly coming back to life. One of them decided to talk some (trembling) sense to the raging man: “Hey man, it’s just fucking Orihara; the guy is a pest”. Shizuo turned to glare at him, releasing his hold on the tattooed boy’s neck and letting him drop to the ground like dead meat.

 

“What did you say?”

 

The boy who had dared speak up took a couple of steps back before turning to run for his life, but the monster caught him by his shirt and turned him around, banging their foreheads together.

 

“ **Nobody** touches Izaya but me, get that?”

 

Instead of waiting for a reply he pulled back and punched the trembling boy so hard, he went flying across the park lawn. Shizuo turned his anger to the benches, lampposts and signs around him, tearing down everything in sight, urging himself to focus on relieving all this rage on inanimate objects instead of taking it out on the boy who had caused it. That part of the park was soon reduced into nothing but a mud pit, and just as he was starting to come down he heard the unmistakable click of a gun safety. He turned towards the direction of the tattooed boy only to stare down the barrel of a gun pointed at him at rather close range. The boy was still breathless, the slight tremor of his hand visible even through the cloud of dust that was just settling down.

 

“You don’t know who the fuck you’re messing with, man. You’re dead, you’re fucking dead! I’m gonna shoot you down and then I’ll get that little bitch of yours and I’m gonna fuck him to the ground and let him bleed out like the fuckin’ whore he is!”

 

When a man draws a gun to kill, he shoots to kill, he doesn’t go around babbling. The boy was stalling; he didn’t really want to shoot, perhaps he’d never shot a man before. The blonde didn’t bother think too much, though; this low life had threatened Izaya and was now pointing a gun at him.

 

“You drew a gun at me? You know a gunshot can kill a man, right? ‘r you trying to kill me, is that it? Can’t hold me responsible for what happens to you then, right?”

 

It all happened very fast; it happened even faster in Shizuo’s mind. He hurled himself at the armed figure, feeling the blood pumping in his head. The sudden jolt on his shoulder, which was followed by burning pain, didn’t stop him. He reached the boy and grabbed him by the hair, yanking the gun from his hand. Then he kneeled down, dragging the tattooed body with him like it was weightless, and started smashing the boy’s head on the asphalt pathway again and again, crushing his skull. The boy’s friends jumped him, stabbing his back with their knives to get him to stop, but Shizuo just pushed them away and kept at it, until the boy’s face was nothing but a bloody pulp. But he still didn’t stop. He kept breaking that skull in pieces until the tasers sent him writhing on the ground, policemen dragging the lifeless body away from him. They cuffed him, punching and kicking him in the process, before throwing him inside a police van. Only when he was finally driven away from the park did Shizuo realize what had happened. He could feel his own blood seeping through his shirt on his shoulder, where the bullet was wedged in the bone, and on his back, where the young punks had given him a good number of deep cuts. But nothing hurt him more than the foreign blood staining his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a big THANK YOU to all of you people who take the time to read and comment! You make me want to write more and I love you all for it! I'd like to name and personally thank every one of you, but then I might end up forgetting someone :) 
> 
> >Nanami, I'm so happy you liked the last chapter - Shizuo's a sweetheart, I love him so much, but he still has to suffer :(  
> >Pierce, I swear I won't drop the story midway, otherwise I might have to face Shizuo's wrath - stares at me hard through his sunglasses "You know you could kill someone by breaking their hearts, right? If you know this, then you were trying to kill Pierce, right? So you can't complain about what happens to you!" xD  
> >PendulumDeath, I don't need to say it, do I?! :D :D :D


	21. The wheels are turning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan started forming in his mind. He couldn’t be sure it would work, but it was worth a try.

For as long as he could remember, Izaya had loved the nighttime. The lights of the city, flickering outside his window, had been his best company throughout his childhood. He would sit on top of his desk, holding his knees to his chest, and watch outside his room’s window for hours; and yet he’d always be at school on time the next morning, looking fresh and neat as ever, ready to shine in all classes, clubs and sports. Being top of everything could be extremely lonely. Not that he ever minded.

 

It was the silence that he loved more than anything. Or so he told himself. It gave him a sense of fulfillment, even though he couldn’t quite explain why. Just sitting there, on top of his world and on top of the city, and watching life in the streets, in total silence, almost as if he was completely alone in this small world of his, as if he was watching humans from a different dimension, another universe, made him feel like he was above everything and everyone. He was not human – he couldn’t be. He didn’t share their fears, hopes or emotions, he had no dreams for his future and no inhibitions either; he simply wasn’t one of them. And since he was above them, no one could touch him. Nothing could ever bring him down.

 

For the first time in his lifespan, in his mid-twenties, caught between the persistent pain of his still healing wounds and the disturbing delirium the painkillers dragged him in, Izaya realized that the reason he slept so little at nights, even as a child, was _not_ because he enjoyed the silence too much to miss it by falling asleep. Quite the contrary; it unnerved him too much for him to actually relax, shut his eyes and drift away. He stood in front of the window walls of his office every night, staring outside at the city, letting the silence embrace him, watching all those flickering lights that proclaimed the unraveling lives of humans, and silently wondered _what_ he was; if he was not human, he had to be something else. Why had he been cursed to live his life among humans, when he was clearly not one of them, and when they clearly never would accept him as one of them? These thoughts were far from appealing, and Izaya would find himself suffocating in the silence of his office in the early hours of the day, before the sun had even risen to the sky. The growing pain between his legs urged him to take his pills and go to bed, but he refused to give in and he’d end up going for a walk around the block instead, just to clear his mind. He hardly ever made it further than the next block, sliding across walls and leaning against lampposts to relieve the pain and strain in his whole body. By the time he made it back to his apartment, the first rays of light slowly bringing the city back to life, he was usually exhausted. Then, and only then, would he surrender; he’d take his pills – or maybe just a couple more than he was supposed to take, just because the pain had grown _that_ unbearable – and lie in bed, hoping that Namie would be loud enough arriving at the office a couple of hours later to wake him. She hardly ever was. He’d wake up around noon, panting, soaked in sweat, and far more tired than he’d gone to bed. The reason was always the same; his sleep was tormented by a mixture of memories and dreams, woven together into an illusionary world where he always lied in Shizuo’s arms, letting the warmth of the blonde’s body engulf his whole being, drinking in the bitterness of cigarettes, tangling his fingers in golden locks, murmuring words he could have never spoken – _will you be mine, Shizu-chan?_ There was no way for him to know how much of it was memories and how much of it was nothing but tricks of his mind. But it didn’t matter anyway; it tore him apart just the same.

 

That Wednesday was no different. Izaya had gone to bed just as the sun was rising, after taking the last four pills from the bottle he’d taken with him from Shinra’s. He’d made a mental note to himself, to get some more of those both magical and terrible pills, but certainly not from the doctor. It wouldn’t be hard for him to get them in the black market. The pills had knocked him out, especially since he’d taken double the dosage Shinra had prescribed him, and he didn’t wake up until late in the afternoon. Shizuo was smiling at him in his sleep, a smile he’d swear he’d never seen on that face – not that he’d ever wanted to see it. Waking up was hardly ever as simple as before; he practically jumped up before his eyes were even half-open. He gasped for air, as if he had just been dragged out from a sinking boat, and checked his surroundings to make sure the tiny apartment he was in mere moments ago belonged in his imagination and had nothing to do with the real world. He sighed – realizing with horror that it was a regretful sigh – and pushed himself out of bed. He checked the time on one of the mobiles on the side table; 2pm. He’d slept for over 8 hours, and yet he felt so tired he’d swear he hadn’t slept at all. He stumbled out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, gladly noting the sound of Namie typing downstairs in the office. One look at himself in the mirror was enough to make him curse under his breath; sunken, baggy eyes, a complexion that looked disturbingly close to grey, skin dull and dehydrated... But the worst of it all had to be that inch of swollen, cracked skin, starting from the left corner of his lips and crawling down towards his chin. That tiny scar would always be there to remind Izaya of that horrid night. He glanced around the bathroom, almost without realizing, and pictured himself lying in the bathtub, naked, bruised and bleeding, just over a week ago. It seemed like the memories would never go away. He turned the water on and splashed his face a few times, then grabbed the edge of the sink and laughed sharply in it, almost as if he was gagging the laughter out of his stomach, spitting out all the pain and fear and incomprehensible guilt that kept tormenting him.

 

“Screw you, beast”, he spoke the words softly, at the sleek porcelain surface of the sink, before drying his face with the towel and walking back to his bedroom to change into some clothes.

 

When he appeared at the top of the staircase that led down to his office, Namie flashed him a mockingly loving smile.

 

“Good morning, sunshine! Or should I say good afternoon?”

 

“I’m not in the mood, Namie”

 

He climbed down the stairs slowly, feeling like the room was spinning around him - he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had any proper food; for the past five days he’d been living on water and painkillers, and maybe a spoonful of those disgusting instant noodles Namie had been _so kind_ to buy for him.

 

“That’s a shame, princess!”

 

He turned to glare at her, but the smile on her face was not simply mocking anymore; it was actually mischievous. There was something she knew and he didn’t, he could tell just by looking at her. He decided to play along with her game.

 

“If I’m the princess, then who are you? The prince? Or maybe the prince’s horse?”

 

She didn’t seem at all annoyed by the offensive joke, which only worried Izaya even further. Whatever it was that she knew he had to find out himself – fast!

 

“Oh no, princess Izaya, _I_ am not the prince. You guessed right, though; there is a prince defending your pride – if you ever had such a thing – and I have to admit I’m surprised at _who_ it is”

 

Izaya was getting irritated. He couldn’t understand the joke and, even though he’d normally play along with it until he could get to the truth on his own, he was at that point too tired and frustrated to bother. He waved a hand dismissively.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and, honestly, I don’t care”

 

“Oh but I think you do!”

 

She typed on his once broken laptop, which was now on her desk apparently fixed, and turned it to him, adjusting the screen so he could get a clear view of whatever it was that she wanted to show him. Izaya glanced at the device before it was even turned his way and immediately glared at her, ignoring the screen that was staring back at him.

 

“Funny, I thought I told you to get rid of this”

 

“You did”, she shrugged indifferently. “Fixing it cost almost nothing”. Seeing that Izaya was still glaring at her she shrugged again. “If you don’t want it, I can give it to Seiji – he could use a laptop”

 

“Do whatever you want with it! Just make sure it gets out of here”

 

He’d almost turned to head to his desk irritated when Namie pressed the play on the video she was trying to show him, at the same time asking him “Do you not want to admire your prince?”

 

At first he only heard a lot of commotion, like someone was filming a scene in the street, most probably a fight. But then a voice, one he could easily recognize among millions of others, reached his ears, just loud enough for him to make out the words: “ _who else around here wants to touch what’s mine?_ ” He turned to look at the screen and saw Shizuo at a bit of a distance, strangling a young man who looked like he could be a member of the yakuza. The video wasn’t very steady and there was a lot of noise and people popping up in front of the camera – it was probably recorded on a mobile phone by some kid who happened to be present. Izaya pulled the laptop towards him as he squatted to be on the same level with the screen, scanning the whole image to work out as much information as he could. The incident seemed to have taken place in Nishiguchi park, in Ikebukuro. Judging from the sun, he concluded that it had to have happened only a couple of hours earlier. Shizuo in the video had dumped the kid he’d been strangling and seemed to be threatening some other kid. He had his back to the camera and Izaya couldn’t make out the words he spoke, so he looked up at Namie, hoping that perhaps she had more information. He didn’t have to ask; she was watching him intently, a knowing smirk on her face, and just as their gazes locked she repeated the phrase she had earlier read on some forum: “ _Nobody touches Izaya but me”._ Izaya held his breath at those words. His eyes returned to the screen, where Shizuo was now destroying the park with almost no effort. He wasn’t wearing his bartender getup and Izaya caught himself wondering why. As far as he knew, he’d never once worn a different pair of clothes at work, and at that time he had to be working. The benches and signposts in the video had turned to smithereens, the blonde roaring like the beast he was. Izaya’s eyes drifted along the lines of the man’s body; his strong arms, his robust torso, those long legs the informant knew to be so smooth underneath the fabric of those trousers, his neck, veins popping out on the taut skin… and then that handsome face; the familiar sunglasses, those golden strands of always disheveled hair falling in his eyes, the thin lips twisted in an expression of hatred… He was indeed admiring _his prince…_ He looked up at Namie, her knowing smirk intact, and she prompted him: “Here comes the best part”. His eyes flew back to the screen where the boy Shizuo had been strangling at the beginning of the video, was now pointing a gun at him. The kid was far from the camera and breathless, but Izaya caught just as many words as he needed, in order to make out the meaning of what he’d spoken: “… _dead…shoot down…little bitch of yours…fuck him…bleed out…fucking whore…_ ”. He saw the look on Shizuo’s face; he could make it out despite the distance. But even he didn’t expect what came next. As he watched the beast smash the kid's head into pieces, his strong hands holding on to nothing but a bloody mess after a while, he felt a strange exhilaration. He told Namie to download the video before the police took it down, his eyes glued to the screen. The recording stopped just as police sirens were heard, but Izaya watched the murder part again and again. There was something fascinating about it, and it was not just the fact that he had just watched someone die. There was more. He’d been looking for a way to revenge the beast all these days, but couldn’t come up with anything appropriate. He wanted him to suffer the same way he had; physical pain was not enough, he wanted to break him just like Shizuo had broken him, he wanted to eliminate him emotionally. Shizuo was not an easy target; he knew that by all the years fighting him. The beast didn’t care much about himself and was so accustomed to physical pain, he almost couldn’t feel it anymore. The only way to hurt a man like him was through the people he cared about; his brother and friends. But Izaya couldn’t bring himself to sacrifice any of his precious humans for a stupid beast like him. He had to come up with something else. But what?

 

The answer seemed so obvious as he watched that video, over and over again. A plan started forming in his mind. He couldn’t be sure it would work, but it was worth a try. Even if it didn’t, he’d be given the opportunity to study one of the most interesting human beings he’d ever come across and piss Shizuo off in the process. And anyway, if plan A failed, there would be a plan B. He was going to make the beast suffer, one way or another. He burst into thoroughly entertained laughter; for the first time since that horrid night he felt fascinated and in control. He picked the laptop up and walked to the couch to watch it again and again to his heart’s content, ignoring Namie’s contemptuous snort. He had forgotten about the pain and the exhaustion, his mind was filled with horrendous delight; the beast had finally risen to the circumstances. Izaya didn’t call him a beast because he was rash and violent, there was nothing wrong with that, but simply because he was unflawed and unpredictable; so much different than the majority of human beings. All those years of provoking him, Izaya had constantly hoped that the man would finally embrace his true nature. And he finally had. Watching him kill a man in such a brutal way, with nothing but his bare hands, the informant felt – to his own horror – aroused. He hadn’t stopped craving for him, his body had been lusting for that monster even through the pain it was suffering because of him. But now for the first time ever, he felt like his desire was justified; this man was all he hated and all he craved for. He was brutal strength and mindless rage; a monstrosity, nature’s mistake. A god on the reverse. And Izaya wanted him. He wanted to feel him and taste him, he craved the pain that he could so effortlessly offer him, he wanted to feel his strong hands on his thighs, spreading his legs apart. He laughed out loud again, wondering what it would feel like to fuck the beast with all the pain from the stitches still ravaging him. _Trust a monster like you to make my life easier by self-destructing,_ he teased his lover in his mind, happily calculating his next move.


	22. So we meet again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When a valiant knight gives up his freedom for her, the least a princess can do is bring him a pack of cigarettes, don’t you think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, time for an update! Sorry people, computer failure kept me away from this story but I'm finally back working on it. I hope you all like the new chapter :)

He had everything ready before darkness settled. When even the last details of his glorious plan had been taken care off, he happily climbed the stairs to the second floor of his apartment and practically danced his way into the bathroom to have a quick shower. The bathtub no longer reminded him of bad memories, it no longer made him feel weak and helpless, quite the contrary; his image reflected on the porcelain surface of the tub only helped steel his determination. He dried his hair with a towel as he got dressed in his bedroom, humming some tune he had probably just made up in his mind and breaking into savage laughter every now and then. Oh, life was good. He was going to make the monster pay, he was going to break him in the best way possible; by turning the people he loved against him.

 

Standing in front of the mirror that covered the whole wall opposite the door in his bedroom -which was in fact not a wall but the door to his walk-in wardrobe-, he put on the skinniest pair of black jeans he had (it was, at that point, the only pair that didn’t look miserably baggy on him) and a black v-neck, and studied his reflection for a few moments. He looked worryingly skinny; the black clothes only intensifying the effect. His coat was hanging behind the door, he’d brought it up with him the previous night (more like very early that morning) when he’d returned from his walk around the block only to collapse in his bed after taking a double dosage of painkillers. He slipped it on and started experimenting with his look; should he leave it open, or should he button it up? Maybe he should just do one or two buttons, to make sure his famished body was covered behind the fur. He frowned at himself in the mirror, buttoning the coat up. _That’s better._ Not that he cared much about his image; only he couldn’t afford to let the beast know that he was still suffering, that he was so affected by the events of that horrid night that he was actually starving himself ever since. Not that he was starving himself because he was in shock or anything. No - he simply wasn’t interested in food. His stomach disagreed, but Izaya found even the thought of eating revolting. He studied himself in the mirror carefully, feeling his determination falter as his eyes drifted over the bruises still visible on his face. The skin on his forehead and on his jaw was painfully purple, the bruises slowly wearing away but still there and still vivid. He drew the hood over his head and lowered it to his eyes; his bruised jaw was not covered by it, neither was the scar on the left corner of his lips. But at least his forehead was, as well as his baggy eyes. He couldn’t see much, but if he just tilted his head back a bit he should be able to take a good look at the imprisoned beast. A small satisfied smile tugged on his lips and he climbed down the stairs to his office humming that cheerful tune again. By the time he’d made it downstairs he felt exhausted, but his good mood made up for his lack of strength and stamina. Namie was watching him suspiciously.

 

“Who did the princess dress up for?”

 

His amused laughter echoed in the spacious room.

 

“When a valiant knight gives up his freedom for her, the least a princess can do is bring him a pack of cigarettes, don’t you think?” He winked at her, and then brought his right index to his lips, in a mock bemused expression. “I don’t know what kind of cigarettes Shizu-chan smokes… Hmmm, I guess I’ll skip the pack of cigarettes part and just go over there and taunt him!”, his arms were thrown up in the air as if he expected an applause, but Namie was just staring at him with her arms folded in front of her chest.

 

“You do realize that you cannot walk into a prison just like that, right?”

 

“Oh, Namie, I’m soo~oo disappointed in you”, he flashed her a vicious smile with bare fangs. “Pleaaa~se, do not underestimate me”

 

That nasty chirping grated her ears.

 

“I like you better when you’re moping about”

 

Like a cat circling its prey, Izaya stalked towards her cheerfully and circled her a couple of times, before bringing his hands up to grab her shoulders from behind, leaning in to speak his words in her ear with mocking playfulness.

 

“ _Princess Izaya_ is in a very good mood tonight. How about you play nice and not spoil it?” Namie tried to push him off, but to no avail. “You just sit here and wait for me, like a good girl. I’m expecting company; make sure he’s comfortable until I get back”, he let go and went over to his desk to get his keys and a couple of his mobiles.

 

“If I end up staying late, you’ll have to pay me overtime”

 

Izaya turned to smirk at her as he was heading for the door. Her arms were still folded in front of her defensively and her face was struggling with a pout.

 

“How about you take good care of my guest when he arrives, and I make sure you still have a job to go to tomorrow morning?”

 

He didn’t care to wait for her reply – which, he knew, would be a snort of some short. With his hands in his pockets and an insane grin plastered across his face, he pranced across the hallway to the lift where he leaned tiredly against the door, silently cursing himself for not taking any painkillers before leaving the apartment. But that was ok; he wanted to feel the pain, to make sure he remembered what he was doing and why.

 

In the back seat of the taxi he took to Ikebukuro, Izaya silently watched the raindrops stream down the window throughout the whole drive. He enjoyed the rain; if it was any other day he would have chosen to walk in it – preferably without an umbrella, just pulling his hood on. The endless tapping was just the kind of soundtrack he’d been hoping for, to gather his thoughts and prepare himself for meeting the man who’d made him question his nature. Shizuo had killed a man; and in his own twisted way, he’d done it for Izaya. He’d made the whole city whisper about their relationship, taking guesses at how intimate the way _only_ Shizuo touches him was. He’d read the comments, he’d gone through all kinds of forums that afternoon. People loved to gossip. Most of the comments had made him sick; the profanity of having complete strangers take guesses at his love life, making crude jokes about who tops and why, was something he wasn’t quite ready to deal with yet. He’d found it almost funny that everyone expected Shizuo to top, but only because of that brutal strength of his – some had gone so far as to claim to be jealous of him, for getting to make that asshole scream. Izaya was repulsed by those comments, at the same time thinking that Shizuo was in fact very tender in bed, always careful not to lose his self control and hurt him. Well, almost always. He hated those fond memories, if only because they made him want to toss his plan and just help the beast out of prison, just to get another chance to be with him. But he wasn’t going to back off now, no matter how good thinking about their nights together made him feel. He had his reputation and his pride to think of. He had to restore his true nature, to prove to himself and the world that he was still far from human, still too strong and smart and cunning, to be nothing more than another human being. He wasn’t sure what to expect; he felt pretty certain that the blonde would be devastated for killing a man, but what about Izaya? Had the beast ended up hating him? Following that night, he probably should. But if he hated him, he wouldn’t have killed someone for his sake, right? As the taxi pulled up in front of the prison, Izaya caught himself wondering whether perhaps the beast could actually love him.

 

_You’re being ridiculous._

 

He didn’t have to go through safety control or beg the officers to let him in; it had all been taken care of with nothing more than a phone call earlier from his office - he might not have used his power to influence things in this city to start a war in the streets yet, but it was all proving useful now. The guard greeted him with a short bow and warned him not to go near the prisoner - Izaya had made sure he’d be left alone with the beast. The informant smiled obediently, pulling his hood up, and the guard opened the heavy door that led to the cells for him. The hallway was lit up by artificial light -the cells had no windows- and smelled like blood and sweat. Izaya took a step inside and the door shut behind him, leaving him alone with his beast in that horribly lit hallway. Izaya knew there was no one around but his beast -the man had been put in isolation, away from the other prisoners, since he was considered dangerous- and he could almost feel him breathing. His hands and his knees were shaking, the pain between his legs suddenly feeling as bad as the night that he had last seen _his prince._ He silently scolded himself for losing his nerve and took the first, unsteady step towards the cell his nemesis was locked up in, pulling his hood further down, so that his eyes were covered by the fur. The cell was small and grey, like a concrete cage complete with a heavy door with bars. Izaya stood stiff and silent, tilting his head back to get a better view of the imprisoned man. Shizuo was sitting on the bed quietly, his hands and feet in shackles connected by a rather short chain. He hadn’t turned to look at the man who had just walked in front of his cell, and it looked like he hadn’t even heard him coming in, lost in his thoughts as he was. Izaya noticed the blood on the man’s shirt, dried but also fresh; no one had bothered take care of his wounds. He realized with horror that some part of him actually cared and hurried to speak up in order to silence the voice in his head.

 

“Long time no see”

 

The blonde head bobbed momentarily; Shizuo seemed to have heard the voice, but it wasn’t enough for him to snap out of his thoughts. A few moments later, hazy eyes turned slowly towards the man who had spoken, looking but not seeing – the beast didn’t seem to recognize him. They stayed like that silently for a few moments, Izaya unconsciously clasping his switchblade in an unreasonably sweaty palm in his pocket, and Shizuo watching him as if he didn’t know who the man was. And then he smiled.

 

“Izaya”

 

He stood up with great effort and shuffled to the door of his cell, the shackles slowing him down considerably. The chain that connected the shackles on his feet with those on his hands was just long enough for him to bring his hands to waist level and he held on to the bars that separated him from the man he’d been craving to see all this time. Izaya took one good look at him and scoffed:

 

“Do they really think these bracelets can hold a beast like you?”

 

Shizuo didn’t seem at all angry. On the contrary, he smiled, pleased that he could hear that voice and gaze upon that figure, even if he couldn’t see the man’s face; only his bruised jaw and that tiny piece of cracked skin below his lips.

 

“I’m not going anywhere”

 

“That would be a safe guess”, he smirked. “How does it feel, to finally prove your true nature to the world?”

 

Shizuo didn’t reply, his eyes carefully studying the man standing opposite him - he seemed so much smaller than before.

 

“What is it like, to hold on to someone as they slip away?”

 

His eyes were covered by his coat’s hood, but Shizuo could tell by his voice that he was finding the thought truly fascinating.

 

“You are sick, you know”, there was a hint of sadness in those words that Izaya detested and enjoyed at the same time.

 

“I’m not the one who killed a man! Really, Shizu-chan, how could you destroy something so beautiful?”

 

“Beautiful? There was nothing beautiful about that kid”

 

“I’m sure he deserved to live more than you do”

 

He was taken aback by that comment, squeezing the steel bars in his hands in the next beat as if he wanted to break them – it shouldn’t be too hard for him.

 

“Maybe I should have just let him have his way with you”

 

Izaya chuckled at the anger that emerged in the beast’s voice.

 

“And what could it be that he wanted to do to me?”

 

“Nothin’ much. Just slit your throat and let you bleed out as he banged you”

 

Izaya laughed out loud in amusement. He already knew what the boy had threatened to do to him, he’d read it in a number of forums, but even if he hadn’t, the video would have been enough for him to get the idea.

 

“So you just spoiled my fun, didn’t you?”

 

Shizuo was getting angrier by the moment, feeling foolish for even thinking that the man could actually be hurt by what had happened between them.

 

“I see you haven’t learned a thing since last time I saw you. Still playing high and mighty”

 

He shouldn’t have given in to his anger – he never would have under different circumstances – but those words knocked Izaya into blind rage, something he never thought himself capable of. Before either of them knew it, his hand was buried in those golden locks, forcefully yanking the beast’s head back as his switchblade pressed against his jugular.

 

“You want to play games with me, beast? You think you’re in a position to do that, trapped behind bars like a mouse?”

 

As the informant tilted his head all the way back to gaze into his victim’s eyes while threatening him, Shizuo was presented with a clear view of the man’s face. He saw a pair of fiery eyes burning like flames, that reddish glow in them brighter and crazier than ever. His heart skipped a beat at the sight and he felt a very familiar weight tugging on his chest; so maybe he wasn’t as back to normal as he pretended to be. He let go of the bars and allowed his fingers to brush the fur that was pressing against them, breathing in the heavenly scent of that feathery body.

 

“I really did hurt you that night, didn’t I?”

 

The flickering of the flames in the informant’s eyes came to an abrupt halt at those words, spoken with affection that sounded so wrong in that setting, and he pulled back immediately, taking a couple of steps back and hiding his knife in his pocket, taking a few deep breaths just to feel the pain in his chest. When he spoke up again his voice was flat and even, carefully hiding all the emotions that tugged on the man’s heart.

 

“As soon as I leave this place, they will set a bail for you”

 

Shizuo shook his head.

 

“I killed a man; they’re not letting me go”

 

“I didn’t say they’re letting you go, I said they’re setting a bail for you”

 

“It will look suspicious”

 

“No doubt”, that blood thirsty smile of his made Shizuo realize that this was in fact part of some plan.

 

“What will you gain, by bailing me out?”

 

“I never said _I_ will bail you out. That pretty little brother of yours might, though”

 

If it weren’t for the wounds on his back and shoulder and the blood loss he’d suffered, Shizuo would have undoubtedly broken both his shackles and the bars of his cell as he hammered his hands against the door.

 

“ **YOU LEAVE MY BROTHER OUT OF THIS!** ”

 

The door to the hallway flung open and the guard gave Izaya a weary look.

 

“Is everything ok?”

 

“Oh yes, please don’t mind us. We’re just having a frie~ndly chat!”

 

He didn’t seem convinced, but his orders were to let the informant do as he pleased, so he turned to go. Izaya’s voice stopped him.

 

“Do you smoke?” The man seemed baffled, but he nodded all the same. “Give me your pack of cigarettes, will you?” The guard was reluctant for a moment but eventually handed the black-clad man the pack along with his lighter and walked out, shutting the door behind him. Izaya turned his attention back to the blonde, who was holding on to the bars with enough force for his knuckles to turn white, and smirked viciously. He pulled a cigarette out of the pack the guard had just handed him and took a step towards his nemesis. “I wanted to bring you a pack – it’s customary, no? – but in all these months fucking you I never once cared enough to see what brand you smoke”, and he held the cigarette in front of the blonde’s mouth. But Shizuo was still caught in those words that somehow involved his brother in this story.

 

“Iiiiizaaaaaaya!” It was a low, threatening growl, but the informant didn’t seem the least affected; the man was harmless, tied up and bleeding behind those bars. He flashed a mock hurt pout, his voice a seductive low.

 

“What kind of a monster do you take me for, Shizu-chan?”

 

“ **If you touch a hair on his head** -”

 

“I would never hurt my precious humans for your sake, idiot”, it sounded like a loving tease and Shizuo allowed himself to be carried away by it. He parted his lips and accepted the cigarette that was carefully placed between them. Izaya smiled at him and the blonde’s heart skipped another beat, even though the smile was anything but innocent. A slender hand brought the lighter to his mouth and lit the cigarette so elegantly Shizuo couldn’t help but take the gesture for an invitation. He silently wished he could tear down the bars that kept them apart and hold that lousy man in his arms, crash their lips together and taste that fragile skin again. He dragged on his cigarette hungrily – he hadn’t smoked all day, ever since he’d been thrown in this cell – and immersed himself in the other’s voice as he spoke up again. “Although I wish I could bring myself to hurt him. I don’t think you care about anyone the way you care about him”.

 

“I care about you”, he spoke through his teeth, his cigarette caught between his lips – the chain was too short for him to bring his hands to his mouth. Izaya chuckled humorlessly at the confession.

 

“You make this so much easier on me!”

 

Shizuo had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but he didn’t care much, anyway. All he cared about was seeing as much of this man as he could, before he disappeared again.

 

“Let me see your face”

 

Izaya’s smirk fell and his expression hardened.

 

“I will ruin your brother if he bails you out”

 

“No, you won’t. Let me see your face”

 

“I won’t touch him, but I will ruin him”

 

“He _will_ bail me out, Izaya. You’re the one who pulled the strings to set a bail for me, so I don’t see what your problem is”

 

“How do you think he’ll feel if he finds out what you did to me? To the man you became a murderer for?” his smirk returned to his face. Shizuo’s eyes grew wide at the implication and he spit his half-smoked cigarette to the floor.

 

“You wouldn’t…”

 

“Oh, I will. Your precious brother should be arriving at my office any minute now. I need to have a word with him before he makes up his mind as to whether he should get you out of prison”

 

The prospect of his little brother finding out what a monster he truly was, not only killing a man but also hurting the person he was supposed to care about, terrified Shizuo. But he couldn’t afford to show that to the man who was threatening to expose him. He grit his teeth and squeezed the steel bars in his hands.

 

“You have more to lose than I do”

 

“Do I? I was under the impression that your little brother was _not_ the gossipy type. I will be honest with you though, even if he was, the whole city already thinks we’re fucking, thanks to you! Tell me something, Shizu-chan, have you really not realized yet that you are _not_ the only one who gets to touch me?”

 

“Fuck you, Izaya!”

 

“What’s wrong, beast? Don’t you want to see my face anymore? Haven’t you missed me?” He puckered his lips playfully and Shizuo felt a sting in his heart.

 

“If you dare get my brother involved in this, I’ll fucking kill you!”

 

“You should have done so when you had the chance. Never leave a job unfinished!”

 

“ **I’m not fooling around, Izaya! Leave my brother out of this!** ”

 

Izaya laughed openly at the absurdity of the threat. “I am not getting him involved! As a matter of fact, I’m giving him a chance to stay out of it! It’s his choice”

 

The strong grip Shizuo had on the bars relaxed as he sighed in resignation. He suddenly seemed hurt beyond words. When he spoke up, his voice was hushed.

 

“He’d never choose anything over me. That’s what people do for the ones they love”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t know about that”

 

“No, I guess you wouldn’t”

 

Izaya dreaded that growing hollow feeling in his chest and turned to leave in an attempt to shush it.

 

“It’s been a pleasure seeing you caged, beast”

 

“ **Wait!** ”

 

The informant stood in his tracks, but didn’t turn back towards the man who’d practically begged him to stay, with no more than one broken word.

 

“Please… let me see your face”

 

The skinny figure seemed to go stiff, turned towards the door to the hallway, almost as if the man was holding his breath. His coat was swaying idly around him, his hands buried in his pockets. Izaya hesitated for a moment before speaking in a bitter but cautious tone, still not turning around.

 

“I don’t see what good would come out of it”

 

“Just, please… let me see you”. Seeing that the informant still refused to turn around, Shizuo sighed tiredly. “I don’t want to get out of here, Izaya. I don’t deserve to be out in the world, I don’t trust myself anymore. You’re right about me; I am a beast and I should stay caged. I don’t care what happens to me anymore. Let me rot in here just, please, let me see your face one more time”

 

Izaya could hear his heart beat fast in his chest. He turned around to look at the man who had so effortlessly ruined his own life for him.

 

“Beasts like you are not supposed to live in cages, Shizu-chan. You’re not pretty enough for the zoo”

 

There was clear tenderness in those words, but Shizuo was hardly listening anymore; his mind was focused on his goal.

 

“I’ll get down on my knees and beg if that’s what you want”

 

Izaya studied him for a moment and then chuckled, that vicious smirk plastered across his face again.

 

“I guess I’d like to see that”,

 

 _No pride, no egoism, no self-respect. I’m just a pawn in your games, you wouldn’t have me any other way._ Shizuo swallowed hard, silently cursing himself for willfully suggesting to drop to his knees and beg, and then did just so. The chain connecting the shackles forced him to bend over slightly, but he made sure his head was craned to watch the man he had fallen to his knees for.

 

“Please, let me see your face”

 

Izaya stood for a moment watching him, before walking over to the cell. He kneelt down, to be on the same level with the beast, and slowly pulled his hood back, revealing his bruised face. His smirk was still intact, but Shizuo didn’t mind it; all he could see was the pain he had inflicted on the man he cared the most about. He wished his hands were free for him to actually touch that fragile skin. Those fiery eyes were watching him intently, as if trying to read the blonde’s thoughts. Shizuo whispered the man’s name, not knowing what else to say to communicate all the feelings he was drowning in; regret, pain, self-loathing, but also desire and lust and painful affection. The vicious expression on the informant’s face faltered at the sound of his own name and Shizuo repeated it again and again, not even minding the way his voice sounded so heavy and broken as it stripped the other bare, his smirk falling and his eyes filling with pain. Izaya brought his right hand up to touch the golden locks of the man kneeling opposite him, and Shizuo noticed for the first time the bandage that was wrapped around that slender wrist. The bony fingers brushed against a few strands of golden before slipping to the base of the blonde’s hair and caressing his skull. The touch was tender, gentle even, and Shizuo felt his heart pounding in his chest. Right at that moment, he couldn’t care less about the circumstances that had led to him being locked in a cage; he would have done it all over again if it meant he could feel Izaya’s hand touch him like that. The informant leaned in and Shizuo copied the movement, pressing his face against the bars that stood between them. Their lips touched, timidly at first, and Izaya almost pulled back after a moment, but then leaned in again and deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past the other’s lips. Shizuo sighed as he welcomed that warm tongue inside his mouth, caressing it with his own, feeling the desire flare up inside him. He pressed his face harder against the bars, not even registering the way the steel pushed into his skin, trying desperately to get more from that contact. He only tasted the tang of blood after the informant had pulled back, spitting the blonde’s blood on the floor and wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

 

“You’d better pray your brother lets you rot in here”

 

He stood up, staggering, and rushed for the door, banging on it more times than needed and disappearing from Shizuo’s eyes as soon as the door flew open, while the blonde bent over to wipe his blood off his mouth and couldn’t help thinking that he had deserved that bite. The moment the door was shut behind him, Izaya turned to the guard, taking a handful of notes from his wallet and handing them over to the man who was watching his every move eagerly.

 

“He will be out before midnight. Make this a night to remember”. As the guard seemed to hesitate, his hand extended to receive the money but not quite doing so yet, Izaya flashed a reassuring smile. “He won’t fight back and no questions will be asked. Break a couple of bones for me and you’ll always have a friend in this city”. The notes were hastily shoved in the man’s pocket as he bowed his head slightly, but Izaya was already heading for the exit of the building, indifferent to the fake respect he had learnt to recognize on people’s faces and desperate to feel the rain on his face and sort his feelings out before meeting the beast’s brother; _the emotionless freak_.

 

 

 


	23. Emotionless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young boy was sitting in one of the couches, legs crossed, a cup of tea set on the table in front of him. It wasn’t clear whether he had noticed the informant coming in; he kept his eyes set on an invisible spot somewhere in front of him, half-closed, expression unreadable – or maybe just blank, Izaya couldn’t tell for sure.

The streets were busy with night traffic, the rain still pattering on buildings, cars and open umbrellas. Izaya stood outside the prison for a while, feeling the raindrops on his face as he craned his head back with eyes shut. He could taste Shizuo’s blood in his mouth, like an unsatisfying revenge. His good mood was ruined and he silently wished he could just go for a walk instead of heading back to his place to meet the beast’s precious little freak of a brother. It couldn’t be helped; the wheels had already been set to motion and there was little he could do – he was nothing but a pawn in his own game. He had made sure he would be nothing more than that, organizing everything in a way that, no matter what happened from that moment on, his participation in the plan was of little importance; things would just take care of themselves. He couldn’t afford changing his mind and destroying everything in the last minute. No; even if he changed his mind, things would just take care of themselves.

 

When he was finally soaked to the bone, shaking under his drenched coat and clothes, he opened his eyes and took one of his mobiles from his pocket to call Namie. Her voice, sour and annoyed, at the other end of the call made him smirk to himself, a fraction of his good mood restored.

 

“Has my guest arrived?”

 

“He’s having his tea in the living room. Will you be late, _Iza-nii_?”

 

The meaningful stress of the silly nickname left no doubt; Izaya frowned.

 

“My sisters called again?”

 

“Perhaps they’d stop wasting my time if you could just pick up the phone and let them know you’re still alive”

 

“I don’t see how that would make them any happier! What did you tell them?”

 

“That you’re out, making someone’s life miserable”

 

“Good, that should have reassured them!”

 

He could almost hear her snort as she slammed the phone. His good mood was fully restored, Namie always made him feel better. Not in the way that Shinra, or even Shizuo did; Namie always made him feel good with himself, she somehow justified all the evil in him, she was his companion in crime, so to speak. His plan was going to materialize no matter what and that was a good thing; he was experiencing the most tiresome mood swings lately, which could have otherwise jeopardized his revenge. But the way he had organized everything he didn’t have to worry; his plan was safe from him. All the instructions had already been given out to the people who were going to carry it out, to see it through, with strict orders to not change a thing, not even if he was to beg or threaten them. Things were going to take care of themselves.

 

He took a taxi back home, in order to get to his office as soon as possible, but ended up cursing himself throughout the whole drive; it seemed to be the bumpiest ride of his life. The pain between his legs had grown almost unbearable, and it was now intensified by the cold that engulfed his soaked body, sending chills up his spine. He clenched his teeth and kept silent, determined to make it through the night without any painkillers; he was strong enough to put up with it, pain wasn’t going to bring him down for he was not human, not the common human, scared and small and oh so weak. No! He was strong – stronger than the pain – and he would put up with it. When he finally made it to his apartment he felt like he was about to collapse. But instead he clenched his teeth and steeled his mind to open the door and face his enemy with the most defiant smirk among his wide collection of masks.

 

Namie stormed out of the apartment before he’d even made it inside, almost as if she’d been waiting behind the door. The office was disturbingly quiet, as if there was no one there, and Izaya swallowed hard before walking into the spacious room. A young boy was sitting in one of the couches, legs crossed, a cup of tea set on the table in front of him. It wasn’t clear whether he had noticed the informant coming in; he kept his eyes set on an invisible spot somewhere in front of him, half-closed, expression unreadable – or maybe just blank, Izaya couldn’t tell for sure. He was very handsome; a brunette, _like Shizuo would be if he didn’t die his hair_ , tall and lean, almost skinny. His hair was rather long, falling in his face, which, combined with that blank expression, made him look incredibly mysterious and weirdly sexy. Izaya had only ever seen him from a distance or in the tv screen. He caught himself thinking that he had never noticed how handsome the younger brother was and scolded that inner voice of his that seemed to be on a constant rant these days. Taking a step forward and forcing the most cheerful tone he addressed his guest with a predatory smile.

 

“Kasuka Heiwajima”

 

“It’s Yuhei Hanejima”

 

The boy didn’t bother stand. He just looked up at the informant, speaking in a tone as blank as his facial expression. There was a moment of silence, as Izaya tried to interpret the odd response before smiling more cordially.

 

“Yuhei, then”

 

A short bow of the head was all the recognition he received.

 

“Orihara Izaya”

 

There was clear hostility; the air was thick with it. It was hard to tell how the feeling was communicated – there was no hint of any feelings in either the boy’s voice or face, not even in his posture as he sat there seemingly relaxed, not so much as if he owned the place, but more like he could fit in anywhere – but Izaya was certain that it was there. He took a step towards his guest, taking his coat off and throwing it against the back of the couch opposite the one where the boy was sitting. He didn’t dare sit down though, he just stood there, watching the beast’s brother in what could easily be described as awe.

 

“I wasn’t sure you would accept my invitation. But I guess reading the yellow press is part of your job”

 

“I have no interest in the yellow press. I am aware of your relationship with my brother though, if that’s what you are getting at”

 

The flat tone was making Izaya nervous; he had always relied on his skill to read people in order to manipulate them, but this boy here seemed almost vacant – like there was nothing there to read. The nervous chuckle he made was nothing but self-defense.

 

“There is no relationship between me and your brother, we just fuck”

 

“…”

 

His attempt to shock his guest fell to deaf ears; the boy was watching him idly, almost as if he hadn’t heard a word. Izaya felt his hands shaking and rolled them into fists, hiding them behind his back.

 

“So, you heard it from your press agent? Your manager?”

 

“Shizuo told me a while back”

 

_Shizuo… Why on earth would he have told anyone, let alone his little brother? Is he that much of an idiot? And what the hell would he have said, anyway? ‘I’m fucking my worst enemy, but we never even exchange a word before or after’? Fuck!_

 

“What business do you have with me Orihara-san?”

 

The calm voice sounded impatient despite the flat tone. Izaya struggled to gather his thoughts, but found it hard to even look at the boy sitting in front of him. He muttered absently: “It’s about your brother”.

 

“That much I guessed”

 

 _Snap out of it!_ This boy, who was hardly an adult, was making him lose his train of thought, rendering him speechless. He sat down on the couch opposite his guest, flinching slightly at the pain that shoot up his spine, and let his arms rest on the back of the couch, asserting his position in the room – he was the one in control in his own damned office! Kasuka’s eyes were locked with his and followed him easily around the space. His gaze hadn’t wandered at all over his brother’s lover’s figure; as if he was oblivious to the drenched clothes that hang unnaturally from his famished body or the bruises that covered most of his face. Which could only mean that he had in fact noticed every single detail and was trying hard to ignore them. Izaya smirked satisfied with himself, feeling a bit more at ease with his weird guest.

 

“I was at the prison just now”. He could swear he saw a flash of curiosity in those half closed eyes but it was gone in a blink. Izaya’s smirk widened. “Wouldn’t you like to know how he’s doing?” Kasuka didn’t reply but that hardly unnerved the informant; he felt like he understood this boy more and more with every silent stare and every flat response. He was the king in this room; the world danced at his will, kept still at his command. This boy was no different, neither was his brother. “He was better than you would expect; he’s wounded and chained up like a wild animal, which suits him if you ask me, but he seems to be ok with the fact that he’s a murderer”.

 

Kasuka winced visibly at that last word and Izaya’s eyes glowed with interest.

 

“You expected my brother to be devastated”, it wasn’t a question, yet Izaya felt as if he was being tested. “Ni- … Shizuo, has long convinced himself that he is a monster. He has learned to expect the worst of himself”

 

“You don’t think he is a monster?”

 

“I know a monster when I see him, Orihara-san”, there was a poignant pause that greatly entertained Izaya. “My brother is a good man”

 

“Your brother is a cold blooded murderer. He’s the definition of a monster”

 

“Why would you fuck a monster?”

 

There was no pretense in those words – even ‘fuck’ was spoken casually, without a hint of embarrassment. Izaya would have applauded the man if he wasn’t so clearly the enemy in this occasion.

 

“ _Because_ he is a monster. That ridiculous strength of his comes handy in bed!”

 

His second attempt to shock the boy fell to deaf ears again, just as expected. Kasuka studied him for a few moments blankly.

 

“What can I do for you, Orihara-san?”

 

“Are you not enjoying the conversation, Yuhei?” There was no reply. “A bail will be set for your brother any minute now”

 

There was a moment of thick silence as each was studying the other. Eventually, Kasuka gave a slight bow of the head.

 

“Thank you. I’m sure my brother will appreciate it”

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure!” The silence in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Izaya was sitting back with an insane smirk plastered across his face, while Kasuka was silently watching him, legs crossed and hands resting casually on his lap, his face a steady blank.

 

“Perhaps I should let you find out on your own in time, but that would defeat the purpose. So allow me to walk you through it. Your brother murdered a young boy in cold blood and in public – there’s even a video recording of the murder. He’s well known to the police for almost daily destroying public property and getting into fights, sending people to the hospital for no good reason. There’s no way they’d ever set a bail for him unless someone pulled the strings”

 

“I am thankful that you used your power to help him”

 

Izaya laughed at the comment, but felt certain that he was in fact being played.

 

“I don’t think you’re that dumb, Kasuka – I mean _Yuhei_. If you bail him out, the press vultures will tear you apart. There’s no evidence to take you to court, but that matters little, if at all, to the yellow press. Your career will be ruined; you, your brother, your whole family will be on every front page for weeks, they will tear you into pieces and by the time they find something else to obsess about, Yuhei Hanejima will be nothing but a bad memory”

 

Kasuka was silent for a few moments, but his eyes didn’t leave Izaya’s for a second. He reached for his cup of tea and took a sip before speaking up.

 

“I think you overestimate yourself, Orihara-san. I will bail my brother out. And I am thankful to you for giving me the opportunity to do so. As for what happens next, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Is there anything else you would like to speak to me about?”

 

He hated admitting it, even to himself, but Izaya was stunned. The boy sitting opposite him, this fragile, ethereal creature, was a far tougher opponent than anyone he’d ever put himself up against in the past. He didn’t look it, but he was the kind of man who was in charge of every situation in his life – he knew how to deal with anything. Despite the lack of facial expressions, there was also clear resemblance between the two brothers, even if subtler than in most siblings. There were profound similarities in the way they handled their body; the smooth yet steady gestures of their hands, even though Shizuo gestured a hell of a lot more than this reserved boy here, the way they leaned back in their seat, decisively yet not at all rigidly. There was also the physical resemblance; their chin and mouth, _that lascivious mouth,_ their hands, even if Shizuo’s were undeniably stronger, the tall and lean figure. This boy here didn’t seem weak either – Izaya felt certain that he could do some serious damage in a fist fight. Both brothers looked rather harmless, yet there was something lethal about both of them; as far as Shizuo was concerned it was mainly his physical strength, but this boy had a different kind of strength, more subtle yet more dangerous. _That’s what happens to you when you spend a childhood next to Ikebukuro’s strongest and most hot-tempered._

 

“You are a very handsome man, Yuhei. You lack your brother’s raw passion, but something tells me you’re a different person when you let the mask fall. Tell me something, is it a defense mechanism? To fight the monster you grew up with?”

 

Kasuka seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding slightly.

 

“It is a defense mechanism; to protect my brother from himself. Now it’s your turn to tell me something; why are you with my brother?”

 

Izaya smirked widely.

 

“It’s fun tormenting him”

 

Kasuka nodded absently and let the silence settle again before speaking up.

 

“You have an interesting set of masks yourself, Orihara-san. But if you will allow me the observation, the cracks are beginning to show”

 

For the second time that night, Izaya felt the anger take over. He leaned forward, his smirk wiped out from his face, his eyes narrowed menacingly.

 

“Your brother is a beast. He should be put on a leash, or better even stay caged for the rest of his life”

 

“My brother is a better man than you are”

 

He felt grief grab him from the neck. He never cared much about being good, he hardly ever valued such qualities in people. But he believed in justice, in his own twisted kind of justice, and he at least deserved that much. The whole world seemed to be pointing a finger at him, telling him he had deserved everything that had happened to him, and he wasn’t going to put up with it. His eyes were burning and he could feel his stomach turning violently, clenching into a tight knot. Kasuka’s calm voice pushed him over the edge.

 

“Shizuo cares a lot about you. I can’t say I understand why, but that’s of little importance”

 

“Your brother is the reason I can’t show my face to the world. Your brother is the reason I play hide and seek with my clients for almost two weeks now – I can’t afford to let them see me like this. Your _precious_ brother is the reason I can’t sit without wishing I was dead, instead of torn and bleeding and in agonizing pain, still, **two weeks after he beat me up and fucked me while I screamed and begged him to stop. Your _precious_ Shizuo, who _cares_ about me so much, is the reason I can’t sleep at nights without waking up crying and aching all over, he’s the reason I can’t even think of meeting people without feeling nauseous, SO DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE TELL ME HE’S A GOOD MAN, YOU FREAK!** ”

 

It’d started as nothing but a low growl, words drawn out with great effort, as if the simple task of speaking was in fact a great ordeal, but had soon escalated into furious shouting. He was shaking all over, his sight blurred by tears he refused to shed, and his heart was beating loud and erratically. Kasuka was sitting back watching him, not a single emotion evident in his expression. The silence seemed to stretch out forever. It was Izaya who gave in first, averting the boy’s gaze and muttering “Get out of my house”.

 

Kasuka stood casually, as if this had been a casual conversation with an acquaintance, and took a couple of steps towards the informant who seemed about to break apart.

 

“Is there anything I could do for you before I leave?”

 

Izaya looked up, surprised and enraged at the unmistakable pity that he could hear in those words. Kasuka was watching him with wide eyes, inspecting the bruises and the scar under his mouth.

 

“Thank you for your pity, you are too kind!”

 

He forced a smirk and made great effort to keep it up for as long as it took his guest to nod blankly and take his leave. The moment he was left alone in the apartment he curled into a ball and broke into sobs. _Orihara Izaya; the strong, composed informant, reduced into a weak, pitiful victim._


	24. In control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing happened in the world unless he caused it to happen; he was the only god in his own universe.

Two hours after he’d allowed himself to fall apart in front of the beast’s younger brother, Izaya was still sitting on the floor, his back against the couch where he’d been sitting earlier, knees held tight against his chest, gaze fixed in the void in front of him. He hadn’t shed any tears. His sobs had been dry, like a strong fist wrenching at his guts. Except for those terrifying moments when he’d open his tear-filled eyes after a few hours of troubled sleep and which he preferred to not consider at all, attributing them to the effect of the narcotics in his blood, he hadn’t shed a single tear since that night.

 

What was it that had put an end to his tears that night? What thought had managed to calm him down? He forced his mind to remember, but the memory was vague, almost as if it had been years since it had all happened. Izaya couldn’t tell whether it was the medicine or the pain that blurred his memory and numbed his mind, but it made little difference anyway; this had become a vicious circle he simply couldn’t escape from. The pain drilled his mind 24/7, chasing all rational thoughts out of his head and paralyzing his body. The painkillers came as a relief as far as the physical pain was concerned, but they numbed his mind in a way that was anything but welcome; flooding it with memories so intense, grief would spring up from his stomach, filling his eyes with tears he refused to shed and squeezing his heart tight. Grief; he couldn’t remember the last time he had experienced such a feeling before - if he ever had experienced such a feeling before. But he had watched numerous people drown in it and he could recognize it for what it was. It felt like some supernatural force roaming inside of him. It would always emerge from his stomach, like a deep hollowness, like someone had drilled a hole there and Izaya’s whole being was being sucked out from that gap, and then it would slowly creep up towards his heart, wrap around it like a snake and squeeze it with suffocating force. His lungs felt constricted, as if his ribcage couldn’t fit them anymore, and no matter how much air he breathed in, in greedy gulps, he simply couldn’t get enough oxygen. He was drowning. His limbs felt heavy and his eyes begged to be allowed to fall shut and never open again, not until this dull pain all over his body was gone, nothing but a bad memory. This was grief and he couldn’t comprehend it; there was no reason why he should ever feel like that.

 

The lights in the office were on but the darkness outside had grown thick. The rain was pattering against the window walls and Izaya had unwillingly succumbed to the intoxicating pattern, slowly emptying his mind of all thought and allowing the sound of raindrops landing on glass to fill it instead. His clothes had dried on his body and had left him trembling violently, but he hardly registered it. He only woke up from his slumber when the rain finally stopped, leaving the office horribly quiet. He pulled himself up with great effort – he could feel gravity’s pull on him, as if it required him to crawl instead of stand up and walk – and stood silently for a few moments. What should he do with the rest of the night? He didn’t feel like sleeping – he never did these days – but he didn’t feel like going out either. The coldness had seeped in through his skin and reached his heart, or whatever was left of it, freezing it through and through. His stomach was tied in a knot and he couldn’t tell whether it was from the cold, the pain, or just plain hunger. Food was not an option anyhow. The thought of it made him sick and he had to stand very still, taking a few deep breaths, in order to fight the urge to throw up. The pain… there were no words to describe the pain any more, he had used them all and he still couldn’t rationalize the situation. He picked up his coat, which was still lying on the back of the couch, and emptied the pockets on the coffee table; four mobiles, one of his switchblades and a pack of cigarettes. He held the pack in his hand for a few moments, just reading the brand and all the tiny letters typed on it in his head, as if there was some important information to be found there. He had forgotten to return these to the guard before leaving the prison earlier. The lighter was tucked inside the pack, along with the few cigarettes left in it. He threw his coat on the couch again, having completely lost interest in taking it to the coat hanger where it could hang and dry properly, and walked over to the windows with the pack in his hand. The streets were empty; the rain had chased away the night traffic. A few raindrops were still streaming down the surface of the windows, blurring out the street lights, and Izaya caught himself thinking that this scenery was very fitting; to what, he couldn’t tell for sure. His mind would do that sometimes; roam freely in territories his conscious was not allowed in. It unnerved him, as he’d always been incredibly composed and in control in his life, but he was happy to ignore the feeling and pretend there was nothing wrong with him; the painkillers were messing with his head and that was all. He brought the pack to his nose and inhaled the heavy scent; bitter and almost sickening. He concluded without much effort that he liked it. He pulled a cigarette out and studied it for a few moments, turning and twirling it in his hand, examining the butt and the front end, bringing it up to his nose to inhale that disturbing scent again. These were certainly not the cigarettes Shizuo smoked. They smelled different, even the smoke had smelled different when the beast had puffed it out in the prison earlier. No, the cigarettes Ikebukuro’s monster smoked were much heavier than these, yet these ones had a far more obnoxious smell. _Maybe because they weren’t his._ A humorless chuckle echoed in the silence of the room as he threw the pack and the cigarette in the dustbin by his desk. He turned his computer on and sat on his swivel chair, clenching his teeth and momentarily shutting his eyes as the pain shot up in his brain, like a high pitched scream blocking out any sound or thought. A few deep breaths were enough to bring him down; the pain in his back and chest had worn off to a dull reminder of the fact that he was still healing and only a few movements could make that broken rib paralyze him in anguish – he had learned to avoid moving his upper body that much, which hadn’t been all that difficult given that he usually felt too exhausted to move around much anyway. This was the first time since that evening – the evening when he had been told that everyone was made out of love and everyone deserved love – that he was sitting at his desk. The swivel chair was too hard of a surface for his constantly aching bottom to sit on for too long and he had purposefully chosen to spend most of his time sitting in one of the couches or pacing around the office – annoying Namie in the process. But now he welcomed the pain. He was feeling uncertain of his plan; what had the emotionless freak meant by “ _I think you overestimate yourself_ ”? And what kind of a person was that boy, anyway? Now more than ever, Izaya understood that Kasuka Heiwajima had in fact been the mask all this time – perhaps Yuhei Hanejima was the real person underneath that blank façade. He couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy; this almost juvenile boy was a master of manipulation. The world could call it acting if they wanted, they could hand him awards and have his picture on the front page of every magazine, but Izaya could see him for what he truly was; a freak, a trickster, an excellent liar. Heiwajima Kasuka had turned the lie into his everyday life and had kept the truth, the real human being, the man still capable of emotions, in the background, turning him into nothing more than a mask that he could slip on and off whenever he felt like it. He could understand why Shizuo loved him so much; the younger brother had tailored his whole life to protect the beast from himself, to make him believe that he was capable of controlling his violent outbursts, when that was in fact nothing but a lie – Kasuka was safe from Shizuo’s rage simply because he never gave him any cause to go off, he was a blank sheet and his brother was allowed to paint him any way he liked. Izaya hated him for that. Izaya was strong and proud and stubborn, he was strong-minded and independent, uncompromising and unrelenting. And he wanted Shizuo to want him just the way he was. He took a few moments to contemplate that thought. Did he really want Shizuo to want him? He did, at some level and no matter how ridiculous an idea that was. And yet he had drawn up a plan which would make the beast hate him - if he had ever stopped hating him at all. There was no way out and Izaya didn’t really want a way out; he wanted the beast to suffer, because no matter how good that warm tanned skin felt on his, Shizuo had still treated him in a way that no common man was allowed to treat him. But at the same time, he still wanted him. He craved those lips and the firm yet tender touches, the warmth that made him feel like he had never experienced cold in his life, the sound of the other’s heartbeat, loud and clear in his head as skin pressed on skin. For the first time in his life, that insane, consuming love he claimed to feel for all of mankind – the love that could just as easily be called something else, even though no one except for _his_ Shizu-chan had ever dared imply that – didn’t leave him feeling hollow, like it was eating him from the inside; it had almost withdrawn to the background, leaving nothing but his craving for the beast in the surface. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that; it was as if he was changing into a different person and he despised the idea, but on an everyday basis he just couldn’t care less. Only when he’d stop to think about it would it really bother him.

 

He glanced at the time on his computer screen; it was past midnight. _Shizuo should be out by now._ He wondered whether that freak, his little brother, would stick around all night, looking after him. The thought disturbed him. Telling Kasuka what his older brother had done to him had been part of the original plan, only in his mind Izaya was in perfect control of the situation. The only way to describe their short meeting and the way that he had ended up referring to that night was _awkward_. Izaya had come out as weak – that was far from the original plan. He had allowed himself to fall apart in front of an opponent tougher than he could ever have predicted and now that boy might go and tell his brother. That would be a disaster.

 

He rubbed his eyes with his hand; the pain was now past unbearable, but he would put up with it for a little while longer. Maybe that could be his punishment for ruining his own plan. He was freezing cold but kept ignoring the violent tremble of his limbs. Losing himself in either the pain or his lust for the monster of Ikebukuro was unforgivable. He hardly recognized the person sitting at his desk; one moment he felt capable of setting the city on fire just to watch the flames swallow up his beloved humanity, and the other he wanted nothing but to crawl in his bed and lie there until it all went away – the pain, the memories, the incomprehensible grief. Shizuo had done this to him. And Shizuo would have to pay, even if it meant that Izaya would have to tear himself apart in the process.

 

It took him a moment to realize the ringing that reached his ears was in fact coming from one of the mobiles sprawled out on the coffee table. He got up and walked over there slowly, lazily almost, as if he didn’t care whether the caller hung up or not. It was his personal number and as he took it in his hand to inspect the name of the caller on the screen, he felt his heart plummet to his stomach. He didn’t wish to pick up and stood staring at the mobile for a few more rings, hoping that the caller would just hang up, before finally sighing and answering in an irate tone.

 

“Hello mother”

 

“Izaya? You certainly took your time!”, her voice reproachful as ever.

 

“My sincerest apologies, but it’s past midnight in this part of the world”

 

“I’ve never known you to go to bed early”

 

“People tend to change their habits in the course of years”

 

“ _People_ do, you don’t”

 

Surprising as it was, Izaya could still lose a sneering match against his own mother. He gave up, but put all his effort in doing so gracefully.

 

“What can I do for you mother?”

 

“Your sisters called me, they were worried about you”

 

“I see. If they were so worried, they could have come over to confirm with their own eyes that I’m still alive and well”

 

“Or you could have picked up the phone and let them know you’re still alive and well”

 

His eyes fell shut as he rubbed his forehead tiredly. He hated feeling helpless, like a child. He hardly ever spoke to his parents; they could go for months without hearing a word from each other, and Izaya was more than happy that way. If anyone asked he’d blame the time difference, but his parents never cared to ask and so he never bothered to lie.

 

“Ok mother. Next time I’m lying bleeding in a hospital bed, I’ll call them right away”

 

There was a moment of silence at the other end of the call.

 

“Are you hurt?”

 

This was not honest concern that he was hearing in her voice; he forbade himself to interpret the tone as such.

 

“I was just making a point”

 

“Your sisters said there are certain rumors concerning your…health…”

 

The cautious tone infuriated him; this woman had no right to show concern for his health, her interest was anything but welcome. She was a stranger, a hardly familiar voice on the phone, a bad memory – she had absolutely no right to poke her nose in his private life.

 

“I’m fine, thank you for your concern, it’s touching”

 

“Izaya, if you need anything -”

 

“It’s rather late, what I need is to get some sleep”

 

He heard her sigh at the other end of the call, at the other side of the world. It made him feel sick.

 

“Is there anything your father and I can do for you? You can talk to me. You know we’re always there for you”

 

Pity. He knew the face of it and he could recognize it anywhere. He would not put up with it twice in one night. He was starting to remember something, something about himself that he seemed to have forgotten lately.

 

“Don’t you think it’s too late for that mother? We can play the game if you like; you’ll be the loving motherly figure, I’ll be the obedient child – just not tonight. Call me some other time, alright?”

 

There was hurt silence for a moment. Izaya felt gloating pleasure bloating his chest.

 

“I don’t know why you turned out so vile, Izaya. Your father and I have given you and your sisters everything you could ever have wanted. But you have always been ungrateful”

 

He broke into laughter, his shoulders shuddering violently. _This is so much fun!_

 

“I have always been ungrateful, haven’t I? Well, you are certainly not to blame for that, no need to worry. I’ll tell you what mother; since you bothered to call and check up on me, I might as well take this opportunity to tell you a few things about me. What do you say?” He didn’t wait for her reply, but rather went on cheerfully, feeling much better with himself with every word he spoke. “There are lots of rumors about me and I’m happy to tell you that most of them, if not all, are true. Do you know how old I was when I first had sex? Do you know if it was with a girl or a boy? Did you ever bother ask me? I’ve had my fair share of experiences with both sexes, I can tell you that much. But my preference is usually men. Do you know how old I was when I first got fucked by a guy?” He could hear her voice in his ear, but he didn’t bother stop and couldn’t make out the words she spoke – he couldn’t care less anyway. “I was still at school, but I think I’ll let you guess exactly what age. Not that you were around, but it could be a fun game. What I will tell you is that it wasn’t consensual. Again, no need to worry though. I enjoyed it none the less – perhaps even more than I would have enjoyed it otherwise. Ah! I feel so much better after this heart opening session. We should do this again some time!”

 

“I don’t know what is wrong with you Izaya, but I won’t put up with this kind of behavior! You think you can mock your mother like that? I have given you everything! Why do you hate me and your father so much? What have I done wrong with you?”

 

He was shaking his head in a mock dejected manner, even if no one could see him doing so. He felt revitalized. This was exactly the way he had imagined telling people what Shizuo had done to him should be; he was not the victim in the story, he was the perpetrator, he was the one in control, the one who had pulled the strings and pushed the beast into another blind rage, the one who could choose to shock and break people with the truth. Nothing happened in the world unless he caused it to happen; he was the only god in his own universe. People’s pity was unwelcome. People’s concern was unwelcome. People’s love was… well, it was unreachable, but that was ok, he was happy to live without it. Their hatred was just as welcome, anyhow. He had never wanted anything but to be above all, independent, relying on no one but himself - he had _never_ wanted to be alone and he longed for love the way every human being did (if not even more desperately than the average human being), but that was an unwelcome thought in his mind. He was _strong_. He was _godlike_. He could break the whole world into pieces and reassemble it if he wanted, and no one could stop him. He smiled at himself.

 

“Thank you for calling mother. You reminded me of something very important that I kept forgetting. Please don’t waste any more of my time now”

 

He hung up and put the mobile down on the table. Grief was a word not included in his vocabulary. He didn’t know it, he’d never experienced it and he was not human enough to ever succumb to it. Shizuo was his and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. The beast had turned into his own personal pet; he would jump, sit or roll on his back at Izaya’s command. Izaya had been foolish to not realize earlier. Love was probably the wrong word to describe what tied the blonde to him, but it mattered very little; he didn’t want the monster’s love. Love was for humans and neither him nor Shizu-chan were human enough. They were both monsters and they belonged together in their monstrous world. Izaya was in control. How could he have ever forgotten? Whenever control was snatched away from him, there was only one thing for him to do; destroy whoever had dared do so. If he had to destroy himself along the way, so be it. He had never wanted to belong to anyone, yet he belonged to Shizuo from day one and Shizuo belonged to him; from that very first day their fates had been inescapably intertwined. And now they were both going to burn, and that was equally just fine. Izaya had been in control all the time. He had been planning to tame the beast and then crush him, and by allowing himself to be ravaged by Shizuo, he had succeeded in taming him. Now there was nothing left but to crush him – to crush both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter made perfect sense in my mind when I first wrote it, but now that I'm editing it I have mixed feelings. I don't know if having him talk with his mother like that is very credible. It was a very random idea really, like "what could ignite a really effective mood swing? Oh, I know! A conversation with his mother!". Again, it made more sense at the time :/ I just needed him to find something to hold on to after breaking down in front of Kasuka, and his parents seemed to be the right call, as they're probably a very much open wound for him. We all go through the phase of wanting to shock our parents and shout "FUCK YOU" in their faces, it's very revitalizing, no? I'll shut up now, I'm only making it worse :S


	25. Unconditional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt the impact of his brother’s fist against the side of his face more than he actually saw it coming.

Kasuka’s eyes met Shizuo’s in the car for the very first time that night. Calm hazel, looking up to meet honey tinted brown. There was something there, not quite an emotion, but maybe just a hint of an emotion, or the suggestion that there should be some kind of an emotion – Shizuo couldn’t tell for sure, but he knew that there had to be a reason why his brother hadn’t spared him a look yet.

 

“Should I take you to a hospital?”

 

“No need, I’ll be fine”

 

The hazel lingered for only a moment, the oppressive blankness making Shizuo count his breaths. Kasuka might have never communicated any feelings behind the camera, but his older brother had learned to interpret the meaningful pauses, the way his look occasionally lingered for just a little bit longer than usual; he might not be able to tell exactly what those odd moments meant, but at least he knew there was something there.

 

“I just want to go home”

 

The driver knew the address already and the two brothers sat silently next to each other in the back seat. When they arrived at Shizuo’s building, Kasuka personally helped his brother out of the car, despite his driver’s kind offer to take up the task himself.

 

The apartment was dark and cold – at least that was what it felt like to Shizuo. Having his younger brother in that space felt so wrong; Izaya’s blood was still staining the mattress and the pillow in his bed, his scent was still lingering, he could swear it was so strong it was intoxicating. He stumbled to the couch with his brother’s support and collapsed heavily, while Kasuka turned the lights and the heating on. His eyes felt heavy and he allowed them to fall shut, only for a few moments, while he listened to the discreet sounds of his brother filling a basin with warm water and bringing a towel from the bathroom. When the couch dipped under his brother’s weight and the damp cloth touched his face he opened his eyes to look up at the face of the man who had just bailed him out of jail, possibly jeopardizing his own life in that way.

 

“You don’t need to do this”

 

Kasuka’s eyes met his for a brief moment, but instead of replying he kept cleaning his brother’s face from the dried and fresh blood.

 

“Kasuka… Thank you”

 

“It’s not me you should be thanking. Izaya Orihara is the one who got you out”

 

 _Izaya… of course._ Shizuo felt a lump form in his throat; had the two actually met? And if they had, what had Izaya told him? There was no sign that Kasuka was anything but his usual self, if only just a little bit disappointed in his older brother, but that was nothing new. The silent treatment was to be expected, but if Kasuka knew about what Shizuo had done to Izaya, wouldn’t he be something more than just disappointed? Shizuo tried to swallow the lump in his throat and then whispered in the most sincere tone.

 

“I’m sorry”

 

Kasuka didn’t bother look at him; he kept cleaning his brother’s face, far more carefully than needed since Shizuo could hardly feel any pain, anyway.

 

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to either”. There was an awkward pause before he went on. “You lawyer says there’s a very good chance you’ll walk away free”.

 

Shizuo’s mouth fell open in surprise – he simply couldn’t understand how it was possible for him to walk away free after…

 

“But… he’s dead”. Deep inside he still hoped that Kasuka would tell him he was wrong; that the boy was still alive, just badly hurt, or in a coma in some hospital. But his brother’s eyes were cold in their blankness. “And there were witnesses…”

 

“There’s also a video recording”, despite the flat tone, Shizuo could swear there was a touch of disgust in that statement. He wondered silently whether his brother had seen the recording.

 

“Then… how?”

 

The calm hazel stared hard at him for a few long moments.

 

“Izaya Orihara has friends in all the right places. Besides, the boy drew a gun at you, you can claim self-defense”

 

He was shaking his head and answering without actually realizing it.

 

“He wasn’t going to shoot”

 

That earned him another blank lingering look. Kasuka’s hand was steady, holding the damp and by now bloody towel inches from his brother’s face. When he spoke up his voice was as flat as ever, yet there was still something there that indicated his question was not to be taken lightly.

 

“Were you protecting Orihara-san?”

 

 _Was I?_ He’d had plenty of time to think about what had happened, locked in that cell all day, but he hadn’t been able to come up with a satisfying answer. He could tell that Kasuka was hanging from his words, even if he didn’t show it, but there was no answer to give him. None that could satisfy him, anyway. When he finally spoke up, his voice was heavy with a mixture of regret for what had happened and pride for that annoying blood-thirsty flea.

 

“He can take care of himself – the boy didn’t stand a chance, Izaya could fight him with his hands tied behind his back”

 

The answer was anything but satisfying. Kasuka’s eyes were cold, almost vindictive as they stared him down, his hand still just inches above Shizuo’s face. His voice was steady but Shizuo knew without a doubt that there was anger simmering somewhere deep inside.

 

“And yet a young man is dead”

 

As far as Shizuo was concerned, Kasuka was not simply good at hiding his feelings; he was perfectly emotionless. That was exactly the reason why at the rare occasions when he felt certain he could detect a feeling in his brother’s blank face, he was utterly terrified. Shizuo had taught his little brother how to defend himself in a fight – and no matter how skinny he was, Kasuka was also very strong. If he was to punch his older brother in the face, he could probably break his nose with little effort, and Shizuo would never even dream of fighting back. However, this was never the case. Whenever Shizuo did something to disappoint him, Kasuka would simply stare at him with those half-closed eyes, communicating anything but anger; disappointment, sadness, pity, regret even. Those lingering looks hurt so much worse than a broken nose would have.

 

“He was scum”

 

He muttered it half-heartedly, fixing his eyes on his lap; he couldn’t bear to look at his brother, not when he had no excuses for the fact that he was nothing but what Izaya had always called him; a monster. He could feel those hazel eyes burning holes through him.

 

“I’m trying hard to find a reason not to walk out of here now and never come back”

 

“Maybe you should do that”

 

Kasuka waited for his brother to look up at him before asking the question that had been nagging him all day. He hadn’t believed for a second that Shizuo had killed the boy in self defense, or even for Izaya’s sake.

 

“If you didn’t believe he was going to hurt you or Orihara-san, why did you kill him?”

 

The air in the room was getting thin. Shizuo felt like he was about to suffocate. Kasuka’s voice was flat and steady as ever.

 

“I don’t know”

 

“Wrong answer, nii-san, try again; _why_?”

 

“What do you want me to say, Kasuka? That I’m sorry? I am! I would take it back if I could, but I can’t. He’s dead. It makes no fucking difference _why_ I killed him!”

 

Bitter hazel studied him for a few moments before Kasuka’s steady hand resumed its task cleaning his brother’s bruised and bleeding face.

 

“He didn’t have a family - grew up in the streets. At least he has no parents to mourn for him”

 

Relief was the wrong word to describe how Shizuo felt about this information. He sighed and brushed his little brother’s hand away.

 

“I don’t deserve this, Kasuka. You shouldn’t be so nice to me, you shouldn’t have bailed me out, you should have let me rot in there. That’s where I belong. I guess you’re not too surprised about what happened; everyone knew I’d end up killing someone sooner or later”

 

Kasuka was looking straight at him. His hand was resting on his knee, the bloody towel dripping red water down his expensive trousers.

 

“I never expected this of you. This is _not_ who you are. That’s why I need to understand _why_ ”

 

Sorrow creased Shizuo’s forehead as he watched his brother. He didn’t deserve such kindness. He wanted to tell him, to explain everything that was going on in his head, everything that he had worked out after hours of painful reflection tied up in that dirty cell, but in order to do so he would have to confess what he’d done to Izaya. If Kasuka didn’t know, then why would Shizuo ever choose to tell him and hurt him further than he already had? He drew a deep breath.

 

“Did you meet him?” Kasuka remained silent and Shizuo wondered whether perhaps he had no idea who he was supposed to have met. “Izaya – did you two meet up?”

 

“He invited me to his office”

 

Shizuo waited for a moment, but Kasuka didn’t seem keen on elaborating.

 

“Did you go?”

 

“Shouldn’t I have?”

 

“He’s dangerous Kasuka! I don’t want you anywhere around him!”

 

“You chose to have him by your side”

 

“ _By my side_?! He is _not_ by my side! He’s still the enemy, still a vicious bastard -”

 

“Whom you choose to spend your nights with”, Kasuka cut him off with a matter-of-fact tone and Shizuo felt the heat rise in his face. “I thought he wanted to talk about you. I thought he’d be able to help”

 

“He _never_ helps. That’s never his intention. He only does whatever benefits him, whatever amuses him -”

 

“And you claim to care about this person”

 

Kasuka’s look was surprisingly inquisitive. His words reached deep into Shizuo’s mind. Hadn’t he asked himself that very same question a thousand times by now? How could he care about someone so vile? How could he claim to be in love with someone he hardly liked? There was no logical explanation but he was certain of his feelings. He looked up to meet that now demanding hazel and wondered whether perhaps his brother could understand this seemingly emotionless man better than he ever had.

 

“You met him. What did you think of him?”

 

The question didn’t seem to surprise him, but he seemed to dislike having to express his personal opinion. He dropped the towel in the basin and wiped his hands on his black trousers.

 

“You were never wrong about him – you were never right either. He is cold. He likes to be in control, to show no emotion”

 

He didn’t realize it, but Shizuo was grinning like an idiot. He spoke the next words without much thought.

 

“I knew you two could relate!”

 

He felt the impact of his brother’s fist against the side of his face more than he actually saw it coming. There was hardly any pain, but the blood pooled in his mouth as the punch cut the inside of his cheek open against his teeth, and he spat it out in the basin, rubbing his already bruised face with his hand. He had cuts and bruises all over, probably even a couple of broken ribs - a little souvenir from his day-long stay in the prison - but he could hardly feel a slight soreness. His brother’s punch, however, had deeply scarred him. He looked up in shame and muttered a half-hearted “ _sorry_ ” while Kasuka’s eyes drilled him with a steely look.

 

“Do _not_ compare me to that man”

 

“I’m sorry”, he repeated it a couple of times until Kasuka finally looked away. He fixed his hazel eyes somewhere at the other side of the room and resumed his flat tone.

 

“I don’t like him. He’s ruined you too many times in the past. And he’s still doing it now. I wish you’d found someone else to care about, but my opinion matters very little, if at all”. He remained quiet for a few moments, refusing to look at his brother. “You seemed to be doing a lot better lately. I almost believed he was good for you. Why did this happen, nii-san?”

 

He deserved to know. Kasuka deserved to know. Perhaps Izaya was just bluffing – it didn’t seem like his brother knew about what had happened between them. But he _deserved_ to know. He wanted to understand and he deserved at least that much. He was always there, he was always by Shizuo’s side, he never abandoned him, he never feared him, he always had an abundance of love and kindness to offer. He deserved to know the truth, he deserved to be given every reason to hate the man everyone else saw as Ikebukuro’s monster. Shizuo sighed.

 

“It was what he said. What he threatened to do – the way he talked about Izaya… I… I saw myself in him. I saw the worst of me in that boy; the monster Izaya has always seen in me, the monster I always thought I could beat. But I was wrong… I was wrong and he was right – no surprise there, right?” He chuckled humorlessly, almost darkly, not daring to meet his brother’s gaze. “I’m everything he’s ever said I was. A beast, a monster, an animal… I wish I could take it back, everything that happened, everything I did… to him… I’d kill myself before I could hurt him, if only I could turn back time. I saw myself in that kid, the worst part of me, the part I want to strangle and bury deep forever. And I just… lost it… I guess…”

 

Kasuka’s posture grew stiff at the confession and his eyes filled with undeniable sorrow. There was little doubt that he knew what his brother was referring to.

 

“So it’s true - what he told me? What he said you did to him?”

 

“…”

 

Shizuo didn’t reply – he _couldn’t_ reply. So Kasuka knew already - and he’d still bailed him out, he’d still offered to take him to the hospital, he’d still helped him up the stairs to his apartment and cleaned his wounds…

 

“I was horrible to him”

 

There was undeniable regret in Kasuka’s voice. Shizuo felt it cut through his heart. He looked up only to find his brother staring at his hands in his lap, shoulders drooped and eyes solemn. He felt the need to comfort him.

 

“Words can’t hurt him. I don’t think anything can hurt him”

 

“You don’t know him very well”

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

There was a sorrowful pause before Kasuka spoke up, but not to offer an answer to his brother’s question.

 

“I thought you cared about him”

 

Shizuo averted his gaze, which had turned back to the blonde, sad and almost accusative.

 

“You wouldn’t understand”

 

“Try me”

 

It was way past midnight and the rain had left the streets empty. The silence was almost oppressive. Shizuo desperately searched his mind for an excuse, for the right words to offer to his brother, but there was nothing. In the end, he could only come up with the most awkward of statements.

 

“I’m in love with him”

 

Kasuka watched him silently for a while, his eyes glistening with something less than an emotion but more than just the lighting of the room.

 

“You’re right, I don’t understand”

 

The words were offered as a way out; Shizuo could drop the subject if he wanted - Kasuka wouldn’t insist any further. But dropping the subject felt wrong. Even though he’d been kindly offered the chance, Shizuo knew his brother would never forgive him if he actually took it. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath before allowing his mouth to move, to form words he didn’t wish to speak, to voice thoughts and memories that were best left buried away.

 

“He said he was playing with me. He said… I didn’t mean a thing to him… he was just… fooling around because he was bored and… and it could have been anyone and… he laughed… he just laughed in my face… said I was an idiot, to think that I could mean something to him, that he could care about me, that _I_ could care about anyone… I just… It hurt so bad… His words were always hurtful but that was a whole new level and I never knew… I could never imagine that his words alone could cut so deep… I guess I just… I lost it”

 

His brother’s voice was calm, almost condescending.

 

“If I told you I hate you, would you believe me?”

 

Shizuo opened his eyes to look at him. “ _No (?)_ ” There was an almost-there question mark at the end of that one-word reply, and Kasuka smiled at him tenderly.

 

“But you believed him?”

 

 _Silly, right?_ Shizuo rubbed the back of his neck dejectedly.

 

“I don’t know… At that moment, I guess I did. Everything he said, it could easily be true. He’s fooled me a million times in the past, he plays with people just to kill his time and me… I’m just… I’m a monster, why would he ever care about me?”

 

“A monster?”

 

“Do you doubt it?”

 

 _Could his brother really not see the monster in him after everything that had happened?_ Warm, steady hands cupped his face gently and Kasuka smiled at him with wide eyes.

 

“Since you first met him you’ve been doing everything in your power to prove him right. I know you; you’re no monster. He’s wrong – he’s wrong about a lot of things. And he’s more human than he likes to let out. You owe him an apology”

 

“He doesn’t want an apology, he wants my head on a plate!”

 

There was a trace of amusement in Kasuka’s look as he pulled away.

 

“Start with the apology. You might be surprised”. He sat back and let his gaze wander around the room. Then he looked back at his older brother, the same blank expression having returned to his face. “Will you be alright? You seem like you’re badly hurt”.

 

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine, I’ll probably have healed before the sun rises. Go on, go home. I’m sure you have a busy day tomorrow”

 

Kasuka stood but didn’t walk away from the couch.

 

“The press will go crazy for a while. I want you to avoid going out a lot. If any journalists try to approach you, just ignore them. And try not to read any magazines, ok?”

 

“He said he’ll ruin you”

 

“Let him try”. He kept silent for a moment, but looked like he wanted to ask something. Eventually: “Is it common for random thugs to come to you threatening his life?”

 

Shizuo stared at him in disbelief. He’d done a lot of thinking all day, but that was a thought that hadn’t once crossed his mind.

 

“You think he set me up?” It was an incredulous thought.

 

“It wouldn’t be the first time”

 

“He didn’t!”

 

“How can you be so sure?”

 

“I…” _how could he, really? Or, better even, could he?_ “I can’t. But I know he didn’t do it. He couldn’t have known how I would react. For all he knew, I could have taken the boy up on his offer”

 

Was it disgust that he saw in his brother’s face? It was gone so fast, he was tempted to believe he had only imagined it.

 

“I wish you had chosen to have someone who respects and cherishes you by your side. Someone who sees the good in you and helps foster it, rather than trample it. It’s your life and I respect your choices, but I can’t understand; why him?”

 

 _Why him?_ Hadn’t he asked this question himself, numerous times by now? Why him? Shizuo shrugged and hesitantly made an effort to answer the question.

 

“Because… he doesn’t fear me… He doesn’t idealize me either… He sees me for who I am… and he… he wants me… he wants me just the way I am, I know he does… I’m not scared of breaking him - I could _never_ break him… Because he’s strong… and he’s also fragile in many respects… Because I… I understand him, really” – Kasuka frowned at those words – “I know you don’t like him, and I don’t blame you, I hardly like him myself! But he’s not that bad – I mean, he’s not _all_ bad. He’s nasty and vicious, he’s a smug, malevolent bastard, but he’s also more than that”

 

Kasuka seemed wary, as if the words were poisonous. Shizuo’s expression grew softer as he pleaded for his brother’s understanding.

 

“You know I’m right, Kasuka. I _am_ Ikebukuro’s monster – ask anyone in the street! But I’m also more than that. I’m also your brother, and I can be a decent guy, there’s a few people who can testify on that! I’m also the man who killed a guy…”

 

Kasuka sat back down in the couch and wrapped his arms around his brother’s bruised and broken body. He hugged him close, burrying his face in the blonde locks, and Shizuo allowed himself to lean in the hug.

 

“You’re a good man, nii-san. You make mistakes, but your heart is pure. You’ll make this right, I know you will”

 

He had no idea how he was supposed to make this right, but if that thought made his brother happy then he would preserve the hope against all logic. They both held on to each other for longer than was necessary, and when Kasuka finally pulled away Shizuo could see his hands trembling visibly.

 

“Should I help you change and get to bed?”

 

“No, thank you. Please don’t waste your time with me, I’m fine. I just want to be alone, if you don’t mind”

 

He silently wished his brother would stay with him all night, but he couldn’t voice that wish. He couldn’t burden him any further. Kasuka nodded obediently and stood up.

 

“I’ll call you in the morning. Try and get some sleep. And please try to ignore everything you hear about me or yourself in the following days; I’ll take care of the press”

 

“I won’t even turn the tv on, don’t worry”

 

A blatant lie, but Kasuka nodded none the less before taking his leave. Shizuo dragged his legs up on the couch and tried to make himself comfortable. He hadn’t slept in his bed ever since that night and he didn’t feel like he’d ever be able to sleep in that room again. Maybe pleading guilty and spending the rest of his life in prison was what could make this right. Maybe this was what his brother expected him to do. _How would Izaya feel if I was locked away forever?_ was his last thought before he drifted away.


	26. Truth hits everybody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shinra had never cared much for people; all of his affection was directed at Celty, the headless dullahan who had changed his life at the tender age of four.

Shinra had never cared much for people; all of his affection was directed at Celty, the headless dullahan who had changed his life at the tender age of four. His only friends in the world were Izaya and Shizuo, but he wouldn’t go out of his way to help them if they ever found themselves in need; he simply couldn’t be bothered. In fact, he’d never even have bothered make these two friends, if his beloved Celty hadn’t urged him to form some normal human relationships. Everything he ever did, every thought (apart from medicine) that occupied his mind, was directed at Celty.

 

Lately, however, he’d found himself caring for that obnoxious bastard, the notorious informant, the man who could ruin lives with a sleight of his hand, out of nothing but a quirk, the man who valued his life more than anything and yet would ruin it repeatedly just for the fun of it; Izaya Orihara. Since the morning when he’d been brought to Shinra torn and bleeding, the doctor couldn’t get him out of his head. He couldn’t help but feel a tad responsible for the way Izaya’s character had evolved. As his one and only friend through childhood, Shinra couldn’t help but feel responsible for the way the informant had turned out. In all honesty, he’d never cared much for the boy that used to be his only friend. He was rather fascinated by his weird nature, but that was never enough to get him to care about those lonely lingering looks when Izaya thought no one was watching, or even the scrapes and bruises, the cuts and the broken bones (there’d been a few of those ever since his two friends were introduced to each other). He simply never cared enough. As a doctor – he was not licensed and had never attended medical school, but he’d been practicing medicine by his father’s side since he was a child, too small to even reach the surgery table yet still helping him, perched upon a chair – he had always been granted permission to people’s private lives; the filth and shame of their most private secrets. Izaya was never one to feel shame. The filth and the pain in his life was something to brag about, something to wear like a badge and show it off – only to the people he didn’t consider as a threat. So Shinra knew everything about him, about the pain and loneliness, about the painful craving to be loved back by his beloved humanity and the constant failure to receive anything but fear and hatred in return for his dark and twisted love; he’d watched him change through the years, he’d been surprised to meet a whole new person, a million times more shady than the kid he’d once met, when they went to Raira together, and he’d watched him evolve, slowly but steadily, into the fearless and fearsome informant, the man who could easily pull the strings in this city. He’d never once cared enough to be nice to him, or offer the haven of true friendship whenever humanity would fail him. He never once cared enough to talk to him, or comfort him when he saw him struggling to keep the mask on, to defy the pain and the disappointment, to be the man everyone saw in him, the man that Shinra knew was nothing but a fabrication. And now it was too late.

 

He was deep in thought as he cleaned the gunshot wound on one of Shiki’s men’s thigh, effortlessly ignoring the squirming and the groans of said man. _Local anesthesia and stitches_ , he reminded himself as he reached for his doctor’s bag on the floor next to him. He preferred to see his patients in some underground clinic, like the one he was currently at, but this was one of those days when he would have preferred to stay home instead. Celty was a proper mess, thanks to that idiot, Shizuo, who apparently couldn’t even control himself enough so as to not crush someone’s skull like it was nothing, and Shinra himself couldn’t help worry about his other friend, who had always had a soft spot for said idiot, and who was probably still in terrible pain. He wished he could go over to Shinjuku and pay him a visit, just to make sure he was ok, but since their last conversation – _argument maybe? fight, even?_ – he felt certain that he was not welcome.

 

He had just applied the local anesthesia and was getting his paraphernalia ready for the procedure when his mobile started ringing. Any other day he wouldn’t have bothered pick up, not when he was working, but with everything going on he felt that he couldn’t risk missing an important call from either his beloved Celty – who would have texted him instead of calling anyway, since she couldn’t really talk – or one of his idiot friends. His intuition was right; the number calling him was Izaya’s office. His heart catapulted to his throat, but he resolved to keep a distanced approach; Izaya was still the one who had been horrible to him for no obvious reason.

 

“I’m busy – what do you want?”

 

On second thought, that was perhaps a bit worse than just a distanced approach. The female voice on the other side of the call surprised him enough to forget about it.

 

“Kishitani Shinra? This is Yagiri Namie. I’m sorry to interrupt you, but your _friend_ ” the word was spoken with obvious disgust, “seems to be in need of help”

 

Shinra was momentarily at a loss for words. Namie was not the kind of person to worry about anyone – even more so about Izaya. If she was calling him, it had to be serious. He felt like he had swallowed his tongue and struggled hard to form the following words.

 

“Izaya? What’s wrong with him?”

 

“I wouldn’t know where to start. If you mean what’s wrong with him _now_ and why am I calling you, he’s lying on the toilet floor; he’s puked his guts out a few times already and now he’s probably passed out”

 

Shiki was watching him from the other side of the room and his patient was ready for his stitches, but Shinra felt like time was holding still.

 

“What do you mean ‘he’s passed out’? Is he breathing?”

 

“How would I know?”

 

“ _Did you check?!_ ” This woman was driving him crazy. He might even claim that she was worse than Izaya, in so many respects. “Well, can you _please_ do so?”

 

“I am not touching him. As much as I value my job, I will not risk catching something from him. You can come check yourself if you like”

 

 _Unbelievable!_ Of course, it made perfect sense that those two worked together, they were just as annoying and impossible to deal with.

 

“I’ll be there as quick as I can. Please just keep an eye on him”

 

He hung up before he could hear another infuriating reply. Shiki was watching him intently but he tried to ignore the look as he called one of the people he often worked with; a nurse who sometimes took underground jobs to add on to her salary. He arranged for her to come over and do the stitches, then hung up and started collecting his things and throwing them in his bag.

 

“I’m sorry, but I have to go – something urgent came up. I’ve called my associate; she’ll be here in no time to take over”

 

He spoke to Shiki, even though he had his back to him, but it was the wounded man who first protested. Shinra ignored him and turned to look at the one making the decisions; if Shiki said it was ok for him to leave, then no one could stop him. Shiki studied him for a few moments before nodding.

 

“Do what you have to do”

 

He was out the door before he could even register the wounded guy’s whining. Shiki was not exactly the understanding type of person, but he’d been working with Shinra for some time now and the two of them had developed deep mutual respect. He was a very perceptive man, and if Shinra hadn’t been so flustered he would have probably realized that he was allowing himself to look way more vulnerable than he could afford to be in front of these people, but at the time he couldn’t care about anything but making it to Shinjuku as fast as possible.

 

Namie let him in immediately and showed him to the guest’s toilet on the first floor of the apartment. The door was open wide and Izaya was indeed lying on the floor, just like she’d told him on the phone. His head was resting on the toilet, his fingers latched around it as if to keep himself up, while his legs were sprawled out on the floor in an anything but comfortable position. Shinra dropped his bag on the floor and knelt down next to his friend, grabbing him by the shoulders and dragging him off the toilet. Izaya’s eyes were shut but he was at least breathing – heavily but more or less normally.

 

“Izaya, can you hear me?”

 

He didn’t open his eyes, but a faint smirk furrowed his lips.

 

“Shinra! So nice of you to pay me a visit”

 

His voice was hushed and before he’d finished his sentence he knocked Shinra’s hands away and leaned over the toilet again, forcing his fingers inside his throat and gagging desperately. Namie, who was standing by the door, winced and turned her face away.

 

“He’s been like this since I arrived”

 

Which meant he’d been like this for over two hours already.

 

“Why didn’t you call me earlier?!”

 

Namie glared at him before looking away again.

 

“I’m his assistant, not his nurse. He can lie there all day for all I care. He’s lucky I couldn’t stand hearing these sounds all morning” and she flinched as Izaya collapsed on the side of the toilet, still drooling and pale like he was about to faint.

 

Shinra decided to ignore the annoying woman and focus on his friend instead. He shifted closer to him and dragged him in his arms, so that he was lying on the doctor’s white coat instead of the toilet. Izaya made a pitiful attempt at resisting but then gave up. He rested his head against his friend’s chest and breathed heavily. Shinra motioned for the towel and Namie threw it to him half-heartedly. He used it to wipe Izaya’s face and then felt his forehead and cheeks with his hand.

 

“You’re freezing!”

 

In response, Izaya snuggled in the white doctor’s coat, trembling violently. Shinra gently pushed him away, so he could take a look at his face.

 

“Open your eyes and look at me, please”

 

Izaya obeyed, albeit with a lot of effort, and Shinra registered the pinpoint pupils with a sigh.

 

“Did you take any of the painkillers I gave you this morning?”

 

Izaya let his eyes fall shut and nodded tiredly.

 

“How many did you take?”

 

Instead of replying, Izaya pushed the doctor away and gagged over the toilet once again, ignoring his friend’s advice to stop doing that – his stomach was empty already. Shinra turned to Namie but she shrugged, turned around, and disappeared in the office. So he leaned over the toilet himself and repeated his question one more time. Izaya looked exhausted, but he made an effort to reply.

 

“N-not… many”

 

“How many?”

 

“As many as… you… told me”

 

“ **How many, Izaya?** ”

 

Instead of voicing his reply, he raised four hesitant fingers over the toilet.

 

“Four?” he cursed under his breath before going on, “Is that all?”

 

“I… might have taken… a couple more… before Namie arrived”

 

“ **When on earth did I tell you that you could have on overdose on those pills, huh?** ”

 

He was about to plunge Izaya’s face in the toilet when Namie reappeared at the door with a bottle of pills that looked conspicuously unfamiliar.

 

“He took some of these when I got here”

 

Shinra reached out and held the bottle in his hand, feeling the anger boil inside him.

 

“What’s this?” Izaya didn’t dare reply, he kept his face over the toilet and didn’t even open his eyes to look at the bottle the doctor was holding next to his head. “These are _not_ the pills I gave you!” Izaya remained silent, which only infuriated Shinra even further. “ **Unless you answer my question right now, I’ll walk out of here and she’ll let you choke on your vomit right here, on the floor!** ”

 

Izaya finally looked up, his abnormally constricted pupils making him look even less human than Shinra ever thought he was.

 

“You’re not the only one in this city who can get drugs in the black market”, he was breathless, but the venom was still clear in his voice. Shinra felt like an exasperated parent, lowering his voice and trying hard to contain his anger.

 

“These things are dangerous Izaya. If you ran out, you should have come to me for a refill”

 

Izaya waved a hand dismissively, but his tone was just as vehement.

 

“I didn’t want to bother you. I thought I’d just buy them from someone who doesn’t care enough to hate me”

 

Namie rolled her eyes while Shinra pulled Izaya towards him once again.

 

“Hate you? Do you really think I dumped the yakuza to come running by your side because I hate you?”

 

Amusement flashed in Izaya’s eyes.

 

“Did you really dump the yakuza?” Shinra nodded and Izaya chuckled entertained. “You’re dead!”

 

Shinra chuckled himself, relieved by the amusement he could detect in his friend’s face.

 

“I’m glad my death amuses you!” They remained silent for a few moments, just studying each other, before Shinra spoke up again, his tone that of a parent comforting a moody child. “I don’t hate you, Izaya. I wish I did, my life would be so much easier! I said a few horrible things last time, but you were being an ass yourself – you were asking for it!”

 

“Forgive me for interrupting your little romance, but can he get his ass off the floor and do some work already?”

 

Shinra smiled at Izaya who was watching him blankly and then turned to Namie.

 

“Could you get him something to eat? Some rice and vegetables maybe?” She didn’t seem very happy, but nodded anyway. “And run a bath for him, please – a really warm bath. I’ll help him upstairs”

 

She turned around with a snort and left them alone. Izaya was still watching the doctor with an unreadable expression.

 

“Did you eat anything before taking the pills?” Izaya shook his head. “I warned you, didn’t I? These are strong drugs, you shouldn’t take them with an empty stomach”. He took one good look at his friend and sighed. “When was the last time you had a proper meal?” Izaya didn’t reply. “You need to take good care of yourself while you’re healing”. He noticed how the informant was trembling and silently registered the faint blue in his lips. “Did you go for a walk in the rain last night?” The suggestion seemed to annoy Izaya who shook his head again. “Ok, then did you by any chance stand in the rain last night? Until your clothes got soaked? Because, of course, you didn’t bother take an umbrella with you – why would you? It’s only been raining non stop for the past few days”. Izaya seemed increasingly annoyed but kept silent. “And then I’m guessing you let these dry on you?” he tugged on his friend’s clothes, which seemed to do the trick. Izaya knocked his hand away and scowled.

 

“Don’t you dare patronize me!”

 

Shinra smiled good-heartedly and got up, holding a hand out for the informant.

 

“You know, for someone so obsessed with their health and appearance, you find it incredibly hard to take care of yourself. Come on, you need to take a nice warm bath before you get pneumonia or something”

 

Izaya obeyed reluctantly and was helped out of the toilet and up the stairs to his spacious bathroom. The bathtub was filled with steaming water and he almost shivered at the thought of how painful it would be to immerse his freezing skin in it. Shinra helped him out of his clothes and then supported him all the way to the tub.

 

“It will be painful at first, but we need to warm you up”

 

He felt ashamed of himself, fearing a tub of hot water. And to make matters worse, the doctor had actually noticed. He stepped into the water, wincing and tensing up as it burned his skin, and slowly lowered his body in it. He clenched his fists and his teeth, holding his breath and counting seconds in his mind just to keep it occupied. Shinra watched him with shameless amusement until he finally relaxed.

 

“I’m going to get you some clothes, ok? Don’t drown in there!”

 

He glared at the doctor’s back as he left the room, and lied back in the tub, still adjusting to the high temperature of the water. Without realizing it, he drifted away, lulled into sweet unconsciousness by the steams, and he might have actually drowned in his own bathtub had Shinra not returned shortly. He pulled his sleeves up and dipped his hands in the water, wiping Izaya’s face clean and washing his raven hair. He run a hand over his friend’s upper body and smiled contentedly.

 

“Your temperature is back to normal. You’ll probably get a fever, but I can give you something for that, so don’t worry”

 

Izaya peered through half-closed eyes.

 

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

 

“Because I care about you”, looking up he saw that the informant was not persuaded. “I know, it beats me as well!”

 

They didn’t exchange any more words while Shinra washed his friend clean, taking advantage of the opportunity to check on his wounds and ponder on how famished his body looked. Izaya kept his eyes closed or watched Shinra silently, enjoying the gentle treatment more than he’d ever care to admit. When Shinra reached for a towel, Izaya finally spoke up.

 

“I was just trying to make the pain go away”

 

In all his life, he’d never felt the need to explain himself. But this was different; he couldn’t afford to let anyone think he was losing control. Shinra stood silent for a moment and then held the towel open in front of him. Izaya’s limbs had turned to jelly – he made an effort to get up, but it was impossible. So Shinra held the towel close to his body instead, and leaned over the tub to pull his friend out and drape his body with it. This led to a rather awkward hug, which was however necessary for Izaya to remain standing. Shinra helped him sit on the toilet seat and then proceeded to dry his body and dress him up. They both took a moment to consider how improperly natural this all felt, before Shinra broke the awkward silence.

 

“I told you it would take time. You have to be patient”

 

“ _Patient_? It’s been two weeks already!”

 

“It can take up to a month for the pain to go away, I’m sure I told you that”

 

“But it’s not getting any better, Shinra! And I still bleed sometimes!”

 

“I can check, if you like”

 

“I think you’ve already looked at my ass more times than I’m comfortable with”

 

Shinra shrugged.

 

“I can’t help unless I can see what the problem is. But it sounds normal, anyway. I stitched you up externally but there’s probably more damage further inside. It will heal eventually, but you need to be patient”

 

The conversation was making him uncomfortable. He pulled the towel off the doctor’s hands and started drying his hair.

 

“I feel like shit”

 

“It sounds like you developed self-awareness!”

 

Izaya glared at him, but couldn’t deny that he was finding the comment amusing. Shinra helped him up and supported him on the stairs as they descended to the office. There was take-out on the coffee table and Namie seemed sour as ever.

 

“Still alive?”

 

“Thanks to you, my dear Namie”, Izaya flashed her a mocking grin, but she ignored him and turned her attention to Shinra.

 

“His food is on the table. Will he be doing any work today?”

 

“I seriously doubt that. But thank you for getting him something to eat”

 

“Great! So I’ll have to do everything on my own again today!”

 

“Why don’t you get lost, Namie? You’ve done enough for one day, alright?”

 

She turned an icy look at her employer’s direction.

 

“You’re still paying me for a full working day”

 

“Yes! Happy? Now get lost!”

 

She didn’t waste any time and didn’t even bother say goodbye on her way out. Shinra unpacked the food and handed it to Izaya along with a pair of chopsticks. Seeing him grimace he chuckled.

 

“Eat your food - and I don’t want to hear any complaints”

 

It took Izaya about half an hour to eat less than one fourth of his food. He then threw the tray and the chopsticks on the coffee table and leaned back, closing his eyes. Shinra picked the tray up and took it to the kitchen, putting it away so that his friend could have the rest of it some time later, and brought a glass of water with him to the living room. He took some pills out from his doctor’s bag and handed them to Izaya along with the water.

 

“Take these, they will help with the temperature”

 

Izaya seemed reluctant, but meeting the doctor’s amused look he decided to swallow the pills without any complaints. He then rolled into a ball and snuggled in one corner of the couch.

 

“Come on, I’ll help you to your bedroom, you look like you need to rest”

 

“I’d rather sleep here”

 

Shinra didn’t insist much. He brought a pillow and a duvet from the bedroom and tucked his friend in the couch. When he started to pull away, Izaya grabbed his arm and opened his eyes to look at him.

 

“Stay here, will you?”

 

He considered it for a few moments. It was a terrible idea; Izaya would wake up grumpy, burning up and probably embarrassed at being seen like that, and he’d be offensive and hurtful as ever. But then he looked so vulnerable, tucked underneath the duvet like a child, that he simply couldn’t bring himself to refuse. He muttered a half-hearted “ _ok_ ” and sat at the other end of the couch, allowing his hand to rest on Izaya’s feet over the duvet. Just a moment later Izaya dragged himself up and shifted on the couch, resting his head on the doctor’s lap and burying his hands inside the man’s shirt. The contact was unpleasant; Izaya’s hands were cold against the doctor’s stomach and the whole situation felt a lot more intimate than either of them had any desire to be. But Shinra refrained from pushing the man away. Instead, he forced his hand down to the raven hair and started petting them cautiously.

 

“Would you fuck me Shinra?”

 

Izaya felt the warm fingers stroking his hair come to an abrupt halt and he smiled to himself satisfied. The doctor resumed the petting a moment later, replying in a forced amused tone.

 

“You’re not my type”

 

“You don’t need to like me; just as long as you hurt me”

 

He pushed his hands further up the doctor’s stomach, caressing the man’s chest in an attempt to embarrass him even further, but Shinra ignored the unpleasant touch and replied matter-of-factly, as if this was a casual visit to the doctor.

 

“Your body is not ready for sex yet. You’d be in terrible pain and you’d probably bleed badly. I doubt there’d be any pleasure involved”

 

Izaya chuckled provocatively and pulled himself up to nuzzle in the doctor’s bare collarbone. He spoke seductively, enjoying the shiver that went through the doctor’s body as Izaya’s warm breath brushed against his skin.

 

“But you see, that’s the point”. Shinra pushed him back down on his lap, trying hard to look unaffected. He knew that Izaya was playing with him, but that could hardly fight the disgust at being treated as a random sex toy. Izaya laughed and let his eyes fall shut. “You’re no fun, Shinra”

 

Perfectly aware of the fact that he was stepping into dangerous territory once again, Shinra resumed the petting of his friend’s hair and spoke quietly, as if to prevent an upcoming tantrum.

 

“You’ve seen humanity’s dark side before, but it’s never affected you that bad. What was so different this time?”

 

Funnily enough, Izaya didn’t look at all angry. He opened his eyes and smirked mischievously.

 

“Humanity? Humanity had nothing to do with this, my dearest friend, Shinra!”

 

The doctor mimicked the smirk, but in a more gentle and playful manner.

 

“Is this where you tell me that you’ve been abducted by aliens?”

 

Izaya’s laugh was open and honest. He seemed truly entertained, which almost reassured Shinra that the informant was in fact dealing with the situation rather than letting it devour him.

 

“No, unfortunately I wasn’t! But you didn’t really think a common man could bring me down all by himself, did you? Oh no, it takes a real beast to break me into pieces”, his smile was painfully smug and Shinra felt the words tug at his mind. _A beast._ He was supposed to understand something, he knew he was, he could see it in the way Izaya’s eyes glistened with mischievousness. But he felt like his mind was blocking whatever it was that he was supposed to grasp with those words. Izaya sighed meekly and shut his eyes, snuggling in the doctor’s lap. “Stick around and keep me warm while I sleep, and I might just let you know what that means when I wake up”.

 

Shinra felt like negotiating; he’d stick around and hold him while he slept if that meant he’d get to know the truth in the end. But he knew better. He kept silent and let his hand rest against the raven head, hoping that the informant would wake up in a good mood – or at least in a mischievous mood, anything but those snappy moods he’d grown used to while looking after him the previous week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When it comes to Izaya and Shinra, I simply can't bring myself to put an end to their meetings :S  
> So, in order to avoid posting a ridiculously long chapter, I'm breaking this down into two chapters. We'll get more of Izaya: the vicious bastard in the second chapter ;)


	27. Like a broken ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He spotted the change in the doctor’s eyes; from searching the truth to violently denying having found it. Izaya felt like laughing, but thought he’d wait to hear what his friend had to say first; he had no doubt that it would be a most entertaining reaction.

Izaya fell asleep with his hands still tucked underneath Shinra’s shirt; palms flat against the doctor’s stomach, face pressed against his abdomen. In his dream he was nuzzling against the curve of Shizuo’s neck, drinking the bitter taste of cigarettes from his always warm skin, rain pattering on the window of the blonde’s bedroom. They were always in that bedroom in his dreams, even though it was a room filled with bad memories - most of the nights they’d spent together in that bed had been cold, if not hurtful. Shinra had resolved to push the informant away as soon as he’d fallen asleep, but before he could do so, the skinny body lying in his lap started twisting and turning, muffled whimpers escaping Izaya’s lips. So instead of pushing him away, Shinra pulled him further up in his arms with a sigh, nesting the raven head in the curve of his neck and creating a little crib with his body, so that his friend was tucked comfortably in the doctor’s warmth. He fought the embarrassment, feeling grateful that Izaya was asleep and couldn’t taunt him for being so close, and hugged him loosely. Physical contact seemed to help – Izaya relaxed in the doctor’s arms, bringing his hands up to the man’s sides and hugging him in return. His dreams were a mixture of wishful thinking and bad memories; he was always with Shizuo, in the blonde’s apartment, and they were always holding each other. The touches were gentle, the kisses soft and almost innocent, Shizuo’s eyes were honey-gold, smiling down at him like he was anything but an enemy. The contact would turn hungry and desperate, hands gripping skin hard enough to leave a mark, hair yanked and teeth grazing sensitive areas, tongues fighting for control over violent kisses. And then something would break. A kiss would evolve into punishment; skin tearing and blood mixing with the taste of cigarettes, sharp, mind-numbing pain that would later translate into a permanent scar on the corner of his mouth. Shinra would then hold him close to his body, tight enough to prevent the tossing and the thrashing, drag his fingers through the raven hair, and whisper any comforting words he could come up with. Izaya would relax almost instantly, the warmth of the doctor’s body a reminder of all the nights he’d spent with Shizuo, skin on skin. His subconscious would then offer a scene from the first night he’d ever spent with the blonde; touches so hesitant that he almost felt like roaring with laughter, lips cautiously tracing every inch of his body, the sweet sensation of being filled by this man who was his and his alone… And then the memory would break into something much less pleasant; a strong hand pinning him down by the nape of his neck, hot breath in his ear, whispering words of hate and vengeance, his body shredded to pieces. He didn’t realize it, but he’d gasp in his sleep, clam his fingers in Shinra’s sides, his nails digging in the doctor’s skin, making him wince and squirm as he tried to calm his friend down and get him to relax again. Shinra attempted to pull Izaya’s hands out of his shirt a couple of times, but the loss of physical contact seemed to distress the informant - which was unbelievable on its own. So he decided to ignore his own discomfort and focus on keeping Izaya warm and calm, hoping that if he slept well, he would perhaps wake up in a good mood. He ended up falling asleep himself, lulled by the combined warmth of their bodies and the hypnotic pattern of rain pattering on the large window walls of the office. They woke up simultaneously, thanks to Izaya’s violent jolt and gasping, his fingers gripping the doctor’s skin hard enough to leave bruises on his sides. Shinra held him close, just like he’d been doing for days while taking care of him, and it only took the informant a few moments to realize where he was and who was holding him. He relaxed his grip and took a few deep breaths, before pressing his mouth against the warm skin on the doctor’s neck. His lips brushed it invitingly when he spoke.

 

“You stayed!”

 

“You asked me to”

 

“I guess you do care about me after all”

 

Shinra felt the smirk against his skin and discreetly tried to push him away but to no avail - Izaya was pressing short kisses along the doctor’s neck, his lips burning with fever.

 

“I wouldn’t have said it, if I didn’t mean it”. Bringing his hands behind the doctor’s neck, Izaya pulled himself up, nuzzling against the soft skin on the base of his ear, which was enough for Shinra to finally forget about tactfulness and push him away with enough force to break the contact. Izaya ignored him and dipped down to his neck again, nibbling carelessly on the skin. Shinra was exasperated at his friend’s behavior, but feared that if he dared stand up he’d ruin his chance to learn the truth. “I wish you’d stop playing these childish games!”

 

Izaya traced a too warm finger across the doctor’s stomach teasingly.

 

“Who said this is a game?”

 

“You promised to tell me what happened if I stayed, and if you think you can chase me out of here with this kind of behavior, you clearly underestimate me!”

 

He felt the informant’s appreciative chuckle against his skin – breath too hot, which could only mean fever under these circumstances – and shuddered despite himself. Physical contact was never anything but disgusting for him; the way two people’s warmth and scents blended into one, breaths mixing and skin burning under clumsy touches – it never made any sense. Celty was always cold, her skin as pure as spring water. She had no scent and no breath to brush against Shinra’s skin on their most intimate moments - she was herself a breath of fresh air, so pure and ethereal. Izaya planted a burning kiss on the doctor’s jaw before pulling away to lie against the other corner of the couch, pulling the duvet over him as if he was cold.

 

“You don’t taste like him, anyway. He always tastes bitter, like his cigarettes - like a mistake I can’t resist repeating”

 

The smile on his face was so open that it took Shinra’s breath away; whoever he was talking about, was obviously important to him. The doctor spoke slowly and cautiously, as if he had a wild animal opposite him and had to be careful not to provoke or scare it away.

 

“I don’t taste like _whom_?”

 

“Shizu-chan, of course!”, like it was the most obvious explanation, like there was no reason why Shinra should ever bother ask. “ _My_ Shizu-chan”

 

He was smiling like an idiot – he had no doubt he was. Celty had informed him about the rumors circulating online, but the truth was he hadn’t taken them very seriously. However, Izaya seemed honest – even more than that, he seemed… happy. In his own twisted way, but still happy. He reminded Shinra of a boy he’d met very few times before; a boy so carefree and relaxed, who could sit back and chat for hours like there was no fault in the world. They’d spent a few nights like that, back when they had just graduated from Raira, when Izaya had just started working with the yakuza. He seemed so happy back then, so confident; he could talk for hours about his beloved people, about the jobs he’d take and the way he screwed everyone. If he bothered think about the things that Izaya had to say, he might have actually found those nights disturbing. But Shinra never cared for people. As far as he was concerned, as long as they were stupid enough to run to Izaya for help, they all deserved what was coming to them. Besides, it was so satisfying to see his friend like that. When he was in a really good mood, Izaya was like a teenage girl; nothing could trouble him or put him off – he had the most open and at the same time mischievous smile plastered across his face and he gestured a lot more than usual, his hands cutting the air so smoothly, as if they’d never swung a knife or handled dirty money, as if they were pure like fresh snow. He liked that side of him; it was so much different than his usual self, so much more endearing.

 

“So it’s true; you two are together?”

 

Izaya’s laugh was just as open as his smile; he threw his head back and shut his eyes, the fever making him feel like he was on fire.

 

“Together? We’re not together, Shinra – he’s a protozoan! Nothing but a toy!”

 

“The way you talk about him, doesn’t sound like he is a toy. Besides, I’ve known you for quite some time now”

 

He didn’t bother explain what that meant; Izaya knew exactly what he was referring to. It wasn’t so much that Shinra was more perceptive than most people – although his rather inhuman nature meant he could easily be an unaffected viewer, just like Izaya – as it was the fact that he knew Izaya better than most people that had allowed him early on to sense his friend’s interest in the man who was to be known as Ikebuluro’s monster. Everyone knew of their frequent fights, but Shinra was the only one who could read beyond Izaya’s voiced hatred for Shizuo. After all, the raven had never cared enough to detest anyone with the animosity he exerted towards the blonde – and despite their passionate declarations of hatred and enmity, Shinra understood that what lay beneath all that fire was nothing but attraction. Izaya seemed spiteful but the expression was soon replaced by a nasty smile and he raised his hands playfully.

 

“Got me! Well, he’s still a protozoan – he just happens to be _my_ protozoan”

 

Shinra raised an eyebrow at the repetition of the possessive adjective. Izaya seemed happy to be having this conversation, but there was still the possibility that it was nothing but a mask – he could still snap at any moment. So he tailored his tone to the assumption that he was indeed dealing with a façade, one which could slip very easily if he wasn’t careful.

 

“Have you two been together for long now?”

 

His question was met with an incredibly smug smirk. Izaya knew exactly what kind of game the doctor was playing, but instead of ruining it all, he felt like playing along.

 

“We’ve been fucking for over a year now”

 

That explained a lot; about the fact that they had stopped fighting in the streets, about Izaya calling Shizuo’s name out in his sleep, about Shizuo attacking someone who had dared threaten Izaya in his presence… There still was a lot that didn’t add up though; like who had hurt Izaya and how could Shizuo have not hunt them down, about why Izaya would call Shinra for help and not the blonde who could have easily dealt with the situation his own way. Unless…

 

“Is this why he killed that kid? Was he the one who…?”

 

Izaya had expected this and was more than happy to play along with the suggestion, his nasty smirk intact.

 

“Was he the one who…what? The one who cracked my skull open? The one who fucked me till I bled?” The fact that he could speak that way about what had happened to him could only mean one of two things; the boy either wasn’t the one who had done all those things to him, or Izaya had simply crossed over to the other side, where all the pain and shame had turned into vindictive madness – the kind of madness that would eventually devour both victim and culprit. Knowing Izaya, Shinra could only guess that it was a sign of both. “Why don’t you try and answer that question yourself? Could a boy like that one immobilize me, all by his own?”

 

“Perhaps he had help. He was in a gang if I’m not mistaken”

 

“I’ve already told you that this was done to me by one man alone – no mobs, no gangs. Just one man. So? Could he pin me down by the back of my neck hard enough to leave a bruise? Could he smash my head against the wall without getting his throat slit in return? Could he fuck me so hard, that he’d tear me through and through?”

 

To his great disappointment, Shinra didn’t look at all shocked or disgusted. He was just watching Izaya bemused, absent-mindedly pinching his chin as if he was contemplating the likelihood of that being the true story. When he spoke, it was as if he was giving his professional opinion, detached and completely unaffected by the fact that he had been the one to take care of those wounds.

 

“No, I don’t think he could. It’d take someone really strong to immobilize you. Most probably someone you either knew or just didn’t consider a threat – which would explain how he could pin you down without receiving a fatal blow from your knife”

 

Izaya seemed pleased; he was nodding slowly, his smug smirk having turned into an insane grin, and when he spoke his voice was filled with ill intent.

 

“Someone with inhuman strength. Someone who could receive a number of deep cuts and still not feel a thing. Someone so perfectly inhuman, he is nothing but a monster”

 

He spotted the change in the doctor’s eyes; from searching the truth to violently denying having found it. Izaya felt like laughing, but thought he’d wait to hear what his friend had to say first; he had no doubt that it would be a most entertaining reaction. Shinra looked up at him in disbelief and studied him for a split second before muttering in clear disgust.

 

“That’s low, even for you!” He sprang up and took a couple of steps away from the couch, in an attempt to put as much space between them as possible, before going on in an openly accusative tone. “To blame him for something so despicable! Shizuo would never do this to anyone!”

 

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

 

“This is not funny Izaya!”

 

“You don’t believe me, do you? Your precious friend, Shizuo, would never do something like this – of course he wouldn’t, he’s such a nice guy after all! But _I_ – I would lie about something like that. I would lie even if I was the one still suffering - because I’m _that_ horrible!”

 

“Don’t try to victimize yourself, I know you better than that!”

 

“He was with Celty that night, wasn’t he? Well why don’t you go ask her what he looked like? What they talked about? Perhaps that would help you solve the mystery! Or maybe you could just open your eyes and see that it’s the only answer that makes sense!”

 

His head was spinning; Shinra felt certain he had never experienced something like this before. Shizuo was an interesting case, but apart from that they’d never really been close – the blonde had never truly liked him, anyway. But Shinra was still confident that he knew a few things about him; like what kind of a person he was, or how far his temper tantrums could go. He had been proven wrong just the previous day; he never thought Shizuo was capable of killing a man, he always believed that even deep in his rage he could somehow control himself. What Izaya was telling him made sense – it made perfect sense; the bruises, the nightmares, Shizuo’s nickname called out in the midst of a wet dream that had eventually turned into a nightmare… And the fact that he knew about Izaya being hurt – Celty had mentioned it a couple of days earlier, after making him swear that he’d never let Shizuo know she’d told him, but he hadn’t read much into it. He was an idiot not to have seen it earlier. But he would never have come up with Shizuo as the rapist, not in a million years – the man might be a monster in various ways, but rapist was simply wrong. Ikebukuro’s monster was a much more decent man than most out there, and he was never one to hit someone when they were down. It made no sense that he had ended up hurting Izaya – his lover, for god’s sake! – in such a horrible way. Unless of course it had been in the midst of a fit of rage, when he couldn’t control himself. And what could ever cause a fit of rage when Izaya was around?

 

“What did you do to him?”

 

Izaya didn’t seem insulted or annoyed by the implication. He just flashed a scorning smirk, still comfortably tucked under the duvet the doctor had brought for him from the bedroom just a couple of hours earlier.

 

“Blaming the victim, Shinra? Well that’s low, even for you!”

 

He mimicked the doctor’s incredulous tone for that last sentence, his eyes glowing with mischief. But Shinra had regained control and sat back down on the couch, closer to the informant than he was before.

 

“I’m not messing around, Izaya. If he hurt you that bad, you must have done something to piss him off”

 

“I did nothing to piss him off. He wanted the truth and I offered it, kindly. I guess he didn’t like it”, he shrugged nonchalantly, watching Shinra fume a few inches away from him.

 

“And what would that truth be?”

 

“That he is nothing but a toy, like so many others; to be made use of and to be disposed when I’m done with it”. It was entertaining to watch the doctor seethe, especially since he was not the kind to care enough to get angry.

 

“That’s hardly the truth! But even if it was, you could have made an effort to be less hurtful, don’t you think?” Izaya’s smirk fell in an instant and there was nothing but a blank expression left.

 

“He was the one who tore me into pieces - I couldn’t breathe or sit up for a week. I bled and cried for mercy, but he showed none of it”

 

Shinra felt the anger die down. He had taken care of Izaya’s wounds, he had looked after him through that painful week, he had witnessed the mood swings and he now understood that he had been responsible for a few of them. Everything fell into place and he suddenly felt responsibility weigh on him.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know”

 

“I know. I don’t want your apology, Shinra - you wanted the truth and now you know it”. He suddenly seemed tired, no smirks, no grins, no carefree gestures.

 

“What are you going to do now?” Izaya looked up puzzled. “You’ll seek revenge, I know you will”

 

“You want to make sure that your friend is safe?” The venom sipped through Shinra’s skin; he felt ashamed that Izaya would even consider that possibility.

 

“ _You_ are my friend”

 

Izaya looked away and kept silent for a few moments.

 

“Did his brother bail him out of jail?”

 

“He did, late last night. The press has been going crazy all day, they say Kasuka bribed someone to get him out”

 

“Good. Then my plan is going just as expected”

 

“You’re targeting his family? That’s not very wise”

 

“Would you rather I got him shot down like a dog?” He turned his gaze back to the doctor and Shinra could see the flames burning in his eyes.

 

“I’d like you two to work this out in a way that involves no pain”

 

Izaya averted the doctor’s gaze and fixed his eyes somewhere in the void in front of him. He seemed completely used-up, holding the duvet tight against his chest – Shinra made a mental note to himself to check his temperature and give him something strong for the fever. When he finally spoke up, his voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but the desperation in it was loud and clear.

 

“I went and saw him at the prison”

 

“I didn’t realize they had visiting hours!” His uninspired joke was washed away by the silence that followed it.

 

“He looked… weak – a monster like him should never look weak. That’s what my beloved humans do, Shinra; they tear down everything strong and beautiful and unique they come across”

 

“He killed a man”

 

“He killed a parasite!” he all but snarled. “Society should have given the idiot a medal for taking the trash out”

 

“I can’t say I disagree, but this is not the way the world operates”

 

“The world is twisted. I of all people should know; I’ve helped twist it a million ways by now”. Shinra silently wondered if that was regret he could hear in his friend’s voice, but Izaya went on in a more sorrowful tone. “I wanted him so badly. After what he did to me, all I could think about, right there in that filthy building, was how bad I wanted him to tear the door down… tear my clothes off and force my legs apart and just fuc-”

 

“WHOA! Too much information!” Izaya turned to look at him as if he had forgotten that he was even there. He was greeted by the most tender smile as Shinra run a hand over his forehead, cheeks and chest and he surprised himself by shutting his eyes and leaning into the contact – Shinra’s hand felt cool against his burning skin. “You’re burning up, I’ll give you something strong for the fever, but you’ll promise to eat before taking any pills”. Izaya nodded with eyes shut and mumbled a slurred “ _ok_ ”. “I want you to stay home tonight – no walks in the rain, no meeting clients, you’ll just stay in bed and keep yourself warm, ok?” Another nod and a whispered _ok_.

 

“Shinra… I’m fine, really. I’ll make him pay, I have to. But he’s still _mine_ and I’m not giving him up”. Shinra nodded and reached for his bag to find the fever reducers. “Do I disgust you?” The question came as such a huge surprise that he had to look up to make sure Izaya had actually spoken. The unique reddish irises were searching for an answer.

 

“Why would you ever disgust me?”

 

Izaya seemed reluctant for a moment.

 

“I’ll still ruin him”

 

It wasn’t exactly a straightforward reply, but Shinra understood with little effort that Izaya was trying hard to be his usual self.

 

“I wish you wouldn’t”

 

“Don’t defend him”

 

“I’m not defending him. Go ahead, ruin him – he deserves it. But if you’re saying what I think you are, then you will only succeed in hurting yourself. I don’t want that”

 

In love. The great Orihara Izaya, the fearsome and fearless informant, the heartless, inhuman raven, was actually in love. Shinra wisely chose not to use those words, but they both understood even without the aid of spoken language. If he wasn’t so inhuman himself, Shinra would probably feel sorry for his friend. He understood the dilemma and he knew that Izaya’s nature would force him to make the worst possible decision – but some part of him felt like Shizuo deserved all the pain and humiliation that was coming to him. Izaya was vindictive by nature and he would do everything in his power to make Ikebukuro’s monster pay. And Shinra couldn’t help but hope that whatever was going to happen, would break the blonde in just as many pieces as he had broken Izaya. He almost wanted to be a part of it – some dark side of him was crying for ratification. He silently wondered if his friends’ feelings were mutual – if they were, then Shizuo should already be feeling like crap for hurting the person he loved. Something cheered in Shinra’s mind as he thought of a way to intensify the blonde’s suffering. He left the pills on the coffee table and got up.

 

“I have to go now, but I’ll call you later to see how you’re doing. There’s food in the kitchen, have some before taking the fever reducers”. Izaya started to get up, but Shinra stopped him. “I’ll show myself out – you rest”

 

“Thank you for staying”

 

“Any time”. He tucked the informant under the duvet protectively and smiled at him. “If you’re feeling better tomorrow, I want you to come over for dinner. Ok?” Izaya rolled his eyes in response.

 

“I can take care of myself, Shinra!”

 

“I seriously doubt that! I won’t take no for an answer; I want you coming over for dinner – not just tomorrow, but the day after and every day until I decide that you can take care of yourself. Otherwise I’ll just drag you back to Ikebukuro with me and you’ll have to stay in that back room until you’ve finally gained back all the weight you lost, understood?”

 

“Yes, understood”

 

He’d never admit it, but it felt good to be taken care of. The room felt incredibly cold once he’d been left alone, but Shinra’s scent - of disinfectant and death – was still lingering. Izaya found it weirdly comforting. He was still the king in his world, but even kings needed someone they could trust by their side – Izaya felt like Shinra was that someone. There was no one else to assume the part anyway, but he liked to pretend that he had an abundance of choices. If it all went to pieces, he could still count on Shinra to be there by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I haven't made anyone hate Shinra with this chapter. He really cares about Izaya, I swear he does, he's just a bit weird.


	28. The things I do for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What he had done to Izaya was unforgivable and he was prepared to take responsibility for his actions, but that was between him and Izaya. No one else had the right to poke their noses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update dear readers, but this just happens to be a ridiculously busy semester for me :/  
> I hope you enjoy the new chapter - thank god for Easter holidays ;)

Shizuo woke up late in the afternoon, feeling weaker than ever before. His shoulder was aching badly, which _almost_ worried him, and his knees trembled heavily as he stood up. The cuts on his back were deep and would take at least another day to heal, while the bullet was still nudged in his shoulder bone, the wound bleeding nonstop. He’d lost a lot of blood, and the fact alone that he could feel pain should have been enough for him to worry – he’d grown so accustomed to physical pain through the years that he had grown almost impervious to it – but he was not the kind to worry too much. He walked to the kitchen, swaying just a bit, and took a look at the contents of his fridge. There wasn’t much there, but he should be able to make a decent lunch for himself. He took a few things out and left them on the kitchen counter before heading to the bathroom to take a shower; he reeked of blood and sweat, his clothes were clinging to his body and blood had caked in a few spots. He washed himself clean and patched his body up with bandages, just to keep the blood from smearing all over the place. He made himself some lunch which he ate standing over the kitchen counter and then crashed on the living room couch again, turning the tv on with the sound off, just to keep him some company. He spent the next couple of hours daydreaming with his eyes wide open; he couldn’t get Izaya’s image out of his head. The raven looked like he had lost a lot of weight, and that scar under his mouth must have been a result of stitches; stitches necessary for the wound Shizuo had given him to heal. He succumbed to the memories that carried him away.

 

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of the doorbell, but he immediately rejected the hope that it was his most _hated_ flea – Izaya would have knocked the door rather than ring the bell. Should he just ignore it? There was no one he wanted to see – his brother wouldn’t be coming over for another couple of days, and apart from Kasuka and Izaya there really was no one he wanted to have in his house at that moment… _It could be Tom, of course… Or maybe even Celty..._ Now that he thought about it, there were a couple of people who might be interested in seeing him, and he couldn’t deny that it was always good seeing them. So when he heard the bell ring again he sighed and went to answer it.

 

The man at his doorstep was one of the people he never would have expected to get a visit from – and he was also one of the people he _never_ enjoyed the company of. Their acquaintances would probably say that the two of them were friends, but Shizuo had never actually liked Shinra, and he felt certain the doctor couldn’t care less about him either – all he was interested in was a blood sample which Shizuo had repeatedly denied him. But there he was, standing right in front of Shizuo’s apartment, in his white doctor’s coat, carrying his doctor’s bag and a dripping umbrella. And, for whatever reason, seeming deeply frustrated.

 

“Hey”, it was a half-hearted greeting to which he received no reply. Shinra was just staring at him with a look that communicated a baffling mixture of feelings. “Is something wrong?”

 

There was a moment of silence, during which the doctor’s bespectacled eyes scrutinized Shizuo’s face in the most unpleasant way, like they were seeking some kind of answer in it. The blonde stared back, starting to get seriously pissed off, when Shinra finally decided to speak.

 

“I need to ask you something and you have to promise to tell me the truth”

 

“What the fuck, Shinra? I don’t have time for your stupid games”, he was about to slam the door irritated, when the following words pinned him to his spot at the doorstep of his apartment.

 

“If you tell me he’s lying, I will believe you. I don’t want to, but I’ve known him for too long – I wouldn’t put anything beneath him”

 

Shizuo looked him straight in the eyes, all his irritation gone, replaced by nothing more than nervousness. _So that’s the way Izaya wants to play this…_ He sighed lowering his eyes, and rubbed the back of his neck, looking way guiltier than he had intended to.

 

“Ask the damned question, Shinra”

 

The doctor’s expression hardened, almost as if he could read the guilt in the blonde’s features. His chest heaved and his eyes narrowed with anger, while his fingers clenched around the handle of his bag.

 

“You…worthless piece of shit”

 

Shizuo was more startled by the fact that Shinra used that kind of language, rather than by the fact that he was angry enough to challenge him. He expected much worse - he deserved much worse, really – although he would have been happy to keep the whole story a secret. He didn’t know what to say, other than the truth.

 

“There is nothing you can say or do, to make me feel worse than I already do. I fucked up-”

 

“You _fucked up_?” Shinra, however, didn’t seem thankful for the truth. On the contrary, he seemed furious. “Is that supposed to make things right? Or make me feel better?”

 

Shizuo held a finger to his lips, in an attempt to shush the doctor, and checked the hallway warily; he’d rather not have his neighbors listen in to this conversation.

 

“You wanna come inside?”

 

Shinra seemed reluctant for a moment, but eventually walked in the apartment, trying his best to keep a distance from the blonde who was standing at the door. He walked straight to the living room, not bothering to take his shoes off, and after dropping his bag and umbrella on the floor, right where he was standing, he turned to fix the most hostile gaze on Shizuo.

 

“What the hell were you thinking?”

 

After shutting the door behind him, Shizuo took a few heavy steps towards the doctor, feeling the floor sway underneath his feet.

 

“I wasn’t. How is he?”

 

“How do you think he is?”

 

Shizuo’s immediate response was a dejected sigh. He didn’t expect Shinra to understand – he didn’t expect _anyone_ to understand – but it still pained him to have to explain himself.

 

“Can you please drop this attitude? I know I fucked up, I’ve already told you. I just want to know if he’s ok”

 

“You don’t have the right to ask me if he’s ok!” The vindictive joy in his voice was unmistakable. It made Shizuo feel sick and the nausea was so intense that he had to shut his eyes and rub his face with his palm to fight it. “Are you ok?”

 

For someone who enjoyed so much telling him off, Shinra certainly sounded concerned. Shizuo swayed a bit, before collapsing down on the couch and dropping his head back.

 

“I’m fine, just… tired, I guess”

 

Shinra ran his hand over Shizuo’s forehead and checked his eyes and pulse – all hostility gone, replaced by expert professionalism.

 

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, haven’t you? Are you still bleeding?”

 

“It’s nothing, it’ll heal in a couple of days”

 

“Will that be before or after you’ve died of blood loss?” Shizuo’s reply was a grunt before he absentmindedly rubbed his wounded shoulder, groaning at the pain that grated on his nerves. Shinra studied him quietly for a moment. “Is that where the bullet got you?”

 

“It’s where the bullet _is_ ”, he growled, half opening his eyes to look at the doctor, who reached for his doctor’s bag and slipped a pair of sterile gloves on. “It’s nothing Shinra, it will heal on its own”

 

Shinra tugged on Shizuo’s t-shirt and pulled it off, ignoring the blonde’s protests. He then peeled off the bandage from his shoulder, grimacing at all the blood, and warned his friend to keep his mouth shut. He inspected the wound for a while, before taking a scalpel and a pair of nippers from his bag and proceeding to remove the bullet. Shizuo whined and fidgeted a bit, but remained silent and still after being stared down by the doctor. When he finally removed the bullet, Shinra cleaned and stitched the wound. He took some time to inspect and clean the cuts on the blonde’s back as well, but except for a couple of stitches, there was nothing else he could do; most of them were already healing. Finally, he fished some gauze out of his bag and proceeded to wrap Shizuo’s wounded shoulder.

 

“Care to tell me what the hell happened?”

 

His voice was calm now, but the question on itself made Shizuo groan. He exhaled roughly and gave a loud snort. He’d been watching the doctor carefully with the corner of his eye, to make sure he wasn’t doing anything suspicious, and had gotten so carried away he had almost forgotten about the reason for Shinra’s visit. Having to explain himself to this man was annoying, to say the least of it. Shinra had no right to interrogate him; he was no better himself.

 

“I just killed a young boy, you know. But you don’t give a shit about that, do you? All you care about is your friend, the fucking flea”

 

Shinra was as close to emotionless as any normal human being could get – Kasuka and Izaya were definitely _not_ his idea of normal. He was also an experienced doctor; he could stitch up a gashing wound without even blinking. And yet his hands trembled for the faintest of moments. He controlled himself right away, confident that the blonde hadn’t sensed a thing, and went on in his most casual tone.

 

“That’s right; I don’t care at all about the boy you killed. I didn’t know him, and I probably wouldn’t have cared even if I did. Izaya is my friend, though, and I want to know what happened to him and why”

 

Shizuo felt exasperated. He had no doubt he was at fault in this situation; what he had done to Izaya was unforgivable and he was prepared to take responsibility for his actions, but that was between him and Izaya. No one else had the right to poke their noses.

 

“What happened to him is none of your concern”

 

Shinra finished bandaging Shizuo’s shoulder in silence and then took a large syringe out of his bag, along with a small vial of medicine.

 

“What’s that?”

 

Detecting the nervousness in his friend’s voice, Shinra smiled placatingly.

 

“Don’t worry, I’m going to take good care of you”

 

His words were anything but comforting, especially since they were followed by a rather insane grin as he filled the syringe from the vial. Shizuo resolved to remain calm and let him do whatever the hell he was planning to do – Shinra was neither strong enough nor fast enough to constitute a threat, anyway. Then the needle was plunged in his neck and before he could move or knock the doctor’s hand away, Shinra was warning him to stay still.

 

“Do. Not. Budge. There’s enough of this stuff in here to knock out an elephant. Move an inch and I’ll push it all into your vein”. Shizuo grumbled but remained still. “And I won’t just sedate you, Shizuo – I won’t be satisfied by just that. Oh no, there’s enough of this stuff here for you to never worry about that stupid strength of yours again. Unless of course you take it with you to the afterlife. I guess it depends on how much of a believer you really are”

 

“Fuck you”, it was no more than a growl, but apart from that, Shizuo remained still.

 

“How about you make an effort to explain to me what happened, what do you say?”

 

Shizuo swallowed hard, contemplating the odds of knocking that syringe away before Shinra could see through his threat. There were good chances he’d make it, but then again it was probably best to play it safe. The doctor wasn’t particularly violent, but he was still a man of no conscience, which meant he could easily kill someone without a second thought and without ever experiencing guilt.

 

“I…” _I don’t know,_ that was the first phrase that came to his mind, because he really didn’t know. Looking back at the events of that accursed night, it all seemed so unimportant and inconsequential. But Shinra wouldn’t be satisfied by such a statement and he was the one holding Shizuo’s life in his hands.

 

“In your own words, Shizuo”

 

The bastard was sneering at him!

 

“He… I…”, words kept failing him, so he sighed and shut his eyes, trying his best to concentrate on his feelings from that night. “We hadn’t seen each other in a while. I’d wanted to see him, I even called him to tell him so. He showed up, but he was… I don’t know, his usual self, maybe – he was being an asshole, like he was doing me a favor, being here, like this was the last place on Earth where he wanted to be. He…” Shizuo swallowed hard again as he heard the words in his head; ‘ _What did you think, you _idiot_? That you _meant_ something to me? That choosing to spend the night with _you_ , rather than some stranger, _meant_ something?’_

“Go on”

 

“He laughed in my face, Shinra”, he looked up into those unrelenting eyes that were throwing daggers at him. “He said… the most horrible things. He told me I was nothing but a toy, someone to pass the time. He said he was playing all this time, just fooling around”

 

“And you decided to teach him a lesson? Show him who sets the rules to the game?”

 

Shizuo didn’t even stop to think about the needle plunged deep in his neck as he shook his head frantically.

 

“No! Shit, I don’t know what happened Shinra, I just lost it, I couldn’t control myself, you know how it is when rage takes over!”

 

“How convenient!” the way he spoke the words through his teeth, he might as well have spat in Shizuo’s face.

 

Shizuo took a deep breath and then let out the air with a sigh. He looked straight in the doctor’s eyes, wearing his most sincere expression.

 

“I’m not looking for excuses – there is no excuse… How would you feel if Celty told you everything between you two had been nothing but a game? If she laughed in your face, wondering how you could ever be stupid enough to believe that someone could actually care about you?”

 

The doctor’s expression had started growing softer, carrying more bitterness rather than anger. He was still holding on to the syringe, though, and he didn’t seem keen on letting go just yet.

 

“You’ve know him for a while now – you know what he’s like. If you can’t handle him, just stay the fuck away from him”. If anything, Shinra sounded hurt; like Izaya’s wounds had somehow affected him as well.

 

“I fucked up, I know. I’d take it all back if I could - I would! But he… he wanted it, Shinra, he wanted me to hurt him. He did everything in his power to push me over my limits. I gave him enough chances to walk away unharmed, but he only kept pushing further. He _wanted_ me to break him apart!”

 

Shinra finally seemed convinced. He studied Shizuo for a couple of moments before withdrawing the needle form his neck, but before he could put the syringe away, he was slammed against the wall, Shizuo blocking his airway with his hand clenched tight around the doctor’s neck.

 

“ **What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Coming into my house and threatening me?”**

Shinra tugged furiously at the fingers clawed around his neck, but they were as strong and rigid as stone. Realizing that he was in fact choking him, Shizuo finally let go of Shinra’s neck, but kept him pinned to the wall by his arms. Shinra thrashed and grunted, but soon accepted the fact that he couldn’t put up a fight against Ikebukuro’s monster.

 

“ **Let go off me! Haven’t you done enough damage already?** ”

 

“ **Stop rubbing it in my face, god dammit! What the fuck do you know, anyway?** ”

 

What did he know? Nothing! What did Kasuka know? Nothing! Not even Izaya knew what had happened, what it had all meant to Shizuo, how deep his words had cut. What did they all know? They were fast to judge him, but none of them had fallen in love with a sociopath, none of them had held that fragile body in their hands, just to watch the beautiful boy transform into the most vicious monster overnight. And yet Shinra seemed furious, finding it incredibly hard to keep his voice down.

 

“ **I almost lost him that night, you stupid neanderthal! I had to wipe the blood off his ass and stitch him up as he screamed and cried from the pain. I was worried sick that he wouldn’t make it! _What do I know_? What do _you_ know? You tore him up and left him to bleed to death, and you have the nerve to ask me how he is? FUCK YOU, SHIZUO!**”

 

He hadn’t meant to let go, his fingers just went limp. He released Shinra, who didn’t bother move from where he was, and stood there watching him. Had it really been that bad? Izaya was hurt, no doubt, but he wasn’t that hurt. He’d walked out of the apartment on his own, how bad could it have been?

 

“What do you mean ‘you almost lost him’?”

 

Shinra’s shoulders slumped in resignation. He took his glasses off and rubbed his face, pushing Shizuo away to walk over to the couch and take a seat.

 

“He was brought to me at around 6 in the morning, bleeding and hardly conscious. He’d lost a lot of blood, he was slipping away”

 

“6 in the morning? That was hours after he left here”

 

“He went home first – don’t ask me why. The point is, half an hour later it would have been too late, I would be visiting his grave now”

 

“You’re being overdramatic!” Shizuo was shaking his head in denial, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. But Shinra didn’t seem interested in starting an argument anymore; he seemed tired and hurt.

 

“I’m not. I had to give him six units of blood – I had to stitch him up with just local anesthesia, and he’s not you, Shizuo, he could feel a great deal of pain, he passed out from it, and he’s still in pain now. I’d never seen him cry before-”

 

“ _Izaya_?! He was – Izaya was… _crying_?!”

 

He wouldn’t have been more shocked if he’d heard Izaya was doing charity, or strolling around Ikebukuro on high heels and a short skirt. Shinra looked up at him and smiled a faint smile.

 

“Shocking, isn’t it? Well I’ve had to hold him through tortured nights, when he’d wake up crying every couple of hours, and I’ll tell you what; it’s not half as entertaining as I’d expected it to be”

 

… _Waking up crying_ … That sounded nothing like Izaya. Was this how bad he’d been affected, then? It made sense in a way; Shizuo had ruined him in a way that no one else ever had.

 

“I hurt his pride, didn’t I?” He said it more to himself rather than Shinra, but the doctor chuckled anyhow.

 

“Is that what you think you did? I guess you really are thick, after all”. As if to prove the doctor’s point, Shizuo could only come up with a “ _huh?_ ” as a reply. “You did hurt his pride, but that’s not the problem, Shizuo. Dammit, you could have smashed his face for all I care, but did you have to hurt him this way?”

 

Shizuo felt the blood rush to his face. They had been in a million fights with Izaya, afflicting all kinds of wounds to each other, and that was somehow ok. What had happened that night, however, was far from ok. The fact that a mutual friend of theirs had been called to clean up the mess afterwards was even less ok. But that was the only kind of fight that seemed appropriate at that moment; it was the game Izaya himself had chosen.

 

“It was his own fucking game”

 

“I don’t doubt it. You shouldn’t have given in”, Shizuo lowered his head – he really shouldn’t have given in. “No wonder he’s devastated, it wasn’t the first time he was raped”

 

“Rap- _What_? It was _not-_ ”

 

“Don’t you dare tell me it was not rape”, his stern tone made Shizuo gulp and he replied cautiously.

 

“It was…This… _He came to me, Shinra!_ He came to me first, and he’d been coming to me, with the sole purpose of having sex, for over a year!”

 

“Did he come to you that night?”

 

“Well, he-”

 

“Did he initiate sex that night?”

 

“…”

 

“I see. Did he ask you to stop?”

 

“…”

 

“Did he scream and beg to be released? Did he cry from the pain? Did he ask you to let him go?”

 

“…”

 

“Well, there you go then”

 

Shizuo was staring at his feet, feeling terribly ashamed of himself. He started muttering something about being an animal, but then a thought crossed his mind.

 

“You said it wasn’t the first time? He’s been… it’s happened before?”

 

The guilt and the panic in Shizuo’s voice made Shinra’s chest bloat with satisfaction; that was exactly the way he should feel, the inconsiderate prick. He nodded solemnly, doing his best to not show how much he enjoyed the blonde’s torment.

 

“At least once before. He’s been forced a few times, but I’m not sure I could call it rape”

 

“When?”

 

“We were still in school”

 

“At Raira?”

 

Shinra nodded, quietly watching Shizuo beat himself over the new information. The blonde was clearly trying to remember something, some clue, some hint he had been given that there was something wrong with Izaya, but was of course failing.

 

“How come I never knew?”

 

“You weren’t exactly friends. And it’s not like he showed up at school with his face scraped and his wrists scarred with burn marks”

 

“He skipped school often”

 

“He did”

 

Shizuo sat down at the edge of the couch, holding his hands together under his chin, deeply distressed.

 

“I can’t believe I never knew… Who was it?”

 

“He never said”

 

“How… how could this happen to him? He was just a kid!”

 

“Bad things happen to those who go asking for them”

 

Shizuo turned an incredulous gaping expression towards Shinra, and had to remind himself who had actually hurt Izaya in order not to lash out at the doctor.

 

“How can you even say that?”

 

“He puts himself in this kind of situations, Shizuo; it makes sense that he ends up getting hurt ever so often. I have no doubt he pushed you in every way possible, but that’s still not an excuse. You should have known better”

 

Silence settled in the room, as both of them fell deep into their thoughts. Shinra was not yet satisfied by the blonde’s torture, there was still much more that he could tell him to break him into pieces. Shizuo on the other hand was just thinking about Izaya; about all those years that he had spent convincing himself that he hated the raven, that he wanted him dead. Now he couldn’t help but feel regret. In the past year he’d been offered more clues as to why Izaya had turned out the way he did than he could actually process. But he knew without a doubt that it wasn’t just viciousness that had made the man who he was. It was pain more than anything. And Shizuo had a very good understanding of pain and what it could do to people.

 

“I don’t understand… why?” Shinra turned a questioning look at him, as if to ask ‘ _why what?’_ and Shizuo went on to voice his thought as best he could. “Why does he do these things? Why did he turn out like this? _Why_?”

 

“I really don’t know – that’s not my area of expertise. If I were to take a guess though, I’d say that, generally speaking, children who grow up with no love usually turn out bad”

 

The thought had crossed Shizuo’s mind before; Izaya had been alone all his life, how could anyone expect him to turn out alright? It was a thought that always made him feel responsibility heavy on his shoulders and he didn’t particularly enjoy it. But with Shinra there, he didn’t have to carry all the weight himself.

 

“Well, where the hell were you?”

 

“Excuse me?!”

 

“Where the hell were you? You were supposed to be his only friend, wasn’t it your responsibility to stand by his side and watch over him?”

 

The doctor chuckled incredulously, folding his arms defensively in front of his chest.

 

“That’s rich! Where the hell were _you_?!”

 

It was Shizuo’s turn to look incredulous. He turned to face the doctor, ready to grab him by the neck again.

 

“ _Me?!_ He fucking hated me! What the fuck was I supposed to do?”

 

That was the cue for the final stage of Shinra’s plan; it was the moment for the last piece of information he had to offer to the blonde – information he hoped would blow Shizuo’s mind away.

 

“He never hated you, you idiot. He was head over heels for you”. Shizuo’s eyes went wide and he gaped for a few moments, before shutting his mouth and swallowing hard. “Did you really not know?” All Shizuo could do was slowly shake his head, dazed and absolutely horrified at the implications of that new piece of information. “How could you not have noticed? Everyone knew!”

 

“He… He hated me, Shinra, he – my life was hell because of him!”

 

“He didn’t hate you. He could hardly take his eyes off of you and whenever you weren’t around, you were the only subject of conversation he was ever interested in”

 

“But he…”, Shinra had accomplished his goal; Shizuo’s brain was practically fried by guilt by now. “He never…he never said anything…”

 

“Did you really expect him to tell you, when you rejected him without even giving him the chance to introduce himself?!”

 

“That’s not true!”

 

“Of course it is! You declared him a nuisance before he even got to say ‘hi’!”

 

“He was being an ass!”

 

“He was being himself. He’s hardly changed in the past decade – and if he has, it was only for the worse. So can you tell me how that boy was any different from the man you’ve been fucking for over a year now?”

 

Shizuo swallowed his tongue, unable to come up with a proper reply. He’d been lying to himself all those years, that was probably the only truth left to offer, but he wasn’t yet prepared to admit it. Izaya had always made his blood boil, he’d always made the world turn upside down, just his scent was enough to sent Shizuo in a rage. Could it all have been nothing more than attraction? How could he have been so stupid as to not see it? And how could he ever have allowed himself to ruin the man he loved? Because he did love Izaya. He loved him more than he could ever express in words, even though he still disliked a lot about him. He sighed and stood up, feeling a little bit tipsy from the physical and emotional exhaustion. He went to the kitchen and brought a bottle of really sweet sake that Tom had given to him as a present in his birthday, along with two glasses; one for him and one for Shinra. He downed a few shots before speaking again.

 

“I love him, Shinra”

 

The confession made Shinra choke on his drink, as he laughed frantically into his glass. Shizuo frowned, but the alcohol was already blurring his senses, rendering him incapable of attacking the damned doctor.

 

“Is this how you treat the people you love?! I’ve never felt so lucky _not_ being loved before!”

 

Shizuo gave a grunt and filled both their glasses before replying.

 

“You can laugh as much as you like; I know he cares about me as well”

 

The doctor’s laughter was flattened out into a presumptuous grin. When he spoke up, his voice was heavy with irony.

 

“Three stitches on the back of his head and another eleven in his rectum – that’s how much he cares about you right now!”

 

“Dammit, Shinra!” Shizuo slurred heavily and downed his drink before refilling his glass. “I fucked up – **I. Fucked. Up.** How many times do I have to say it?”

 

“Say it as many times as you wish, I’m not interested in what you have to say. If it was up to me, you’d never go near him, ever again. I don’t want you touching him, speaking to him, or even laying your eyes on him, ever again!”

 

“But it’s not up to you” Shizuo spat the words vehemently, exhausted at having to put up with this man whom he hardly even liked.

 

“No, it’s not. But if you ever dare hurt him again, I’ll make you suffer for it”

 

“I’ll never hurt him again, Shinra”, Shizuo suddenly sounded like a hurt puppy – he even looked the part. “Fuck! I’d rather kill myself than ever hurt him again, I swear!”

 

Shinra nodded and they both sat drinking silently for a few minutes, before Shizuo started a conversation about their school days. He wanted - no, he didn’t really want to, but he _had_ to know everything about those days, about what Izaya was like, what he talked about, where he disappeared when he’d skip school, what he did in his spare time. Shinra answered his questions as best he could – the truth was, even he didn’t know much about what Izaya did with his free time or where he’d go when he didn’t show up at school. The more Shizuo learned about the raven, the more convinced he was that he had been greatly responsible for the way the man had turned out, and Shinra could read that thought in his heavy-lidded from the alcohol eyes. So he kept offering more and more information; about the night when Izaya had shown up at his apartment to announce that he’d had his first experience with a man, bruised and broken in every way possible, but still smiling and chirping cheerfully, about all the wounds Shinra had had to tend to through the years, about the forceful and abusive sexual partners. By the time they emptied the bottle, Shizuo was devastated beyond words, and he was left staring blankly at the tv which was still on. He hardly managed a grunt as goodbye when the doctor got up to leave.

 

When he got to the street, Shinra called Izaya to see how he was doing. The informant wouldn’t be too happy if he ever found out about the conversation Shinra and Shizuo had just had, but the doctor decided to wait and see if his friend would ever actually find out. The phone rang a few times before Izaya finally answered it.

 

“Hello?” Shinra could tell by his voice, that his friend had been sleeping.

 

“Hey, it’s me, Shinra. How are you feeling?”

 

“Mmmm… Fine, I’m fine”. He certainly didn’t sound fine, though.

 

“Were you sleeping?”

 

“Uh-huh”

 

“Did you take the pills I left for you?” All he received was guilty silence. “You have to take the fever reducers before going to bed for the night, you promised”

 

“Ok, ok – I will. They’re right here on the coffee table next to me, I’ll take them right now, happy?”

 

“Not quite. You’re supposed to eat first”

 

“… I’m really tired, Shinra, I’ll just take the pills and get some sleep – I’ll eat in the morning, I promise!”

 

“You’ll eat before taking the drugs, that’s what you promised”

 

Izaya cursed under his breath at the other end of the call and then sighed.

 

“I really can’t get up right now… I just won’t take the pills – I’ll take them first thing in the morning!”

 

Shinra stopped walking and stood still at the sidewalk, rubbing his forehead as if the gesture helped him think better. Izaya truly did sound weak and exhausted.

 

“I’ll come over. Stay in bed, I’ll be there as fast as I can”

 

There was a short moment of hesitation, before Shinra heard a muttered ‘ _ok’_ , clearly highlighted by a faint smile. He hung up and headed for the train station, texting Celty to let her know he’d be late. He knew Izaya would never admit it, but he had no doubt that the man actually enjoyed being taken care of. And Shinra wasn’t interested in lying to himself about how much he enjoyed taking care of him. Celty was his one and only love, but she hardly ever needed to be looked after – she was too strong and independent for anything like that. Izaya, on the other hand, took out Shinra’s more human side – and even though he never would have expected it, Shinra was thankful for that.


	29. Dinner with friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shinra had spent half the day getting the apartment ready for Izaya’s visit.

Shinra had spent half the day getting the apartment ready for Izaya’s visit; he’d tidied up every room the raven might end up entering, from the living room to the kitchen and from the bathroom to the guest room, making sure there were no detectable signs of his medical work. He’d also locked up the back room, where he saw his patients and where Izaya had stayed for a week, bleeding and crying every single night. Nothing would remind the informant of those days; the apartment was nice and quiet, clean and looking as ordinary as any other apartment in Ikebukuro. Celty had been giving him the silent treatment since the moment he announced to her Izaya would be joining them for dinner every evening for the next few weeks – that was two days earlier and she didn’t seem like she’d let go anytime soon. He hated disappointing her, but couldn’t help feeling a little bit betrayed at the same time; it had always been her who’d urge him to make friends, so her hostile behavior was completely uncalled for.

 

Izaya was always punctual; at exactly 7 o’clock he was ringing the doorbell, carrying a bottle of the strongest bitter sake and wearing his most charming smile. He’d spent the last two days in bed, burning up, but the illness had actually proven to be the perfect chance for him to get some rest and relax. Shinra would pass by twice a day, to make sure his friend was eating and taking his medicine, while Namie would come in for work every morning. All in all, it had been two good days; exactly what he needed in order to take a break from everything and find himself in this madness that had now become his life.

 

Shinra answered the door, trying his best to ignore Celty’s hostile stance as she stood rigidly in the middle of the living room with her arms folded in front of her chest and her helmet on. He welcomed Izaya with a wide smile and smirked inwardly at the bottle of sake – he had no doubt it was a much more bitter variety than the one Shizuo had offered him the other day, but it was still amusing that they’d both offered him the same kind of drink in such different circumstances. Izaya took a deep, theatrical bow before offering the bottle to the doctor.

 

“To thank you for your kind invitation” – such an impeccable mask; the shinny smile and the glow of mischief in his eyes made Shinra’s heart leap with joy. He accepted the bottle and played the game with an open smile.

 

“You didn’t have to”

 

The smile on Izaya’s lips morphed into a playful smirk and he threw his hands in the air as if to cheer.

 

“Don’t you just love these platitudes?!”

 

If it had been any other day, Shinra would have just invited the raven inside, amused by the whole show but uninterested in continuing it – or even acknowledging it. But it wasn’t any other day; Shinra had been watching Izaya wither for what felt like a really long time, and it was way too good to see him like that again to just ignore it. Having absolutely no doubt that Izaya would be beyond embarrassed by the gesture, he pulled him in a tight hug – Izaya’s arms stayed awkwardly by his sides. Shinra caressed his friend’s back with his free hand – he was holding the bottle in the other one – and whispered the words in his ear:

 

“It’s so good to have you back”

 

Izaya pulled himself out of the doctors arms, stretching his back as if the hug had been so uncomfortable it had actually hurt his bones, and brushed his coat as if the contact had somehow dirtied him. The gesture didn’t seem to offend Shinra, who was smiling blissfully.

 

“Did you just infect me with the plague or what?”

 

An entertained chuckle escaped the doctor’s lips as he leaned against the door watching the informant.

 

“Am I not allowed to express my affection for you?”

 

There was no mistaking the disgusted expression in Izaya’s face – he even made an “ew!” sound.

 

“You’re not allowed to use that word in the same sentence as my name, ever again!”

 

They both laughed at themselves and at each other, for being so different from their usual selves while at the same time being exactly the person each other knew, and then moved inside the apartment. Izaya greeted Celty with his most friendly smile, but all he received in reply was the sight of her back as she turned and walked away, disappearing in one of the back rooms.

 

“She’s not very happy to see me, is she?”

 

“This isn’t about you, don’t worry. We had a bit of an argument, that’s all”

 

“Was it because of me?”

 

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, you know”

 

“You could burn in the fire for expressing such blasphemous views!”

 

“Have I offended the almighty god?” Shinra took a mock bow and Izaya nodded as if in approval. “Should we move to the kitchen? Dinner is ready to be served”

 

“Was all this nice treatment a distraction, so you can lure me into the kitchen and poison me with your cooking?”

 

“Don’t worry you ungrateful soul; I didn’t cook for tonight”

 

Shinra walked to the kitchen and Izaya followed him idly, running his fingers over the surface of every piece of furniture he came close to on his way, like a bored child would do.

 

“You mean to tell me you invited me all the way out here so we could have take out? I could do that in Shinjuku if I wanted”

 

“Not just any take out, you thankless brat! I got you your favorite; I thought you deserved it after everything you’ve been through lately, but now I’m starting to change my mind!”

 

There was a tray of otoro on the table, along with a few other types of sushi and Izaya found himself gaping at the sight.

 

“You got me otoro?!” He took a seat immediately and then looked up at the doctor impatiently. “Where are my chopsticks?”

 

All he deserved was a punch in the face for his ungrateful and childish behavior, but Shinra smiled at him instead and offered him a pair of chopsticks before taking a seat at the other side of the table. Izaya nibbled at the sushi quietly, but seemed to be full soon enough. He started playing with his chopsticks; tapping them together as if he was checking the different sounds they could make.

 

“Does Celty usually have dinner with you?”

 

Shinra looked up from his plate and considered the question for a few moments. Izaya of course knew that Celty couldn’t eat. So what he was asking was something different. He nodded and replied quietly – Celty wouldn’t appreciate being talked about, so it was best she didn’t overhear this conversation.

 

“She keeps me company through dinner; she sits at the table with me”

 

“Does this mean I’ve taken her place?” Izaya wasn’t looking at him; his eyes were fixed on his chopsticks right in front of his face.

 

“This is different. She could join us if she wanted to-”

 

“But she doesn’t like me”

 

“I never said that”

 

“I’m not blind, Shinra. That’s alright, I don’t care what people – or monsters, for that matter - think about me”

 

Shinra stared at him for a moment, feeling the urge to tell him off for that insult, but Izaya was still not looking up. In the end he sighed and went back to his food with a “whatever you say”. They stayed like that in silence for a few more minutes, until Shinra decided to speak again.

 

“Is that all you’ll eat?”

 

“I’m full”, Izaya finally looked up – he seemed bored out of his mind.

 

“Right…” Shinra searched his mind for a way to entertain his friend and then he noticed the sake on the kitchen counter. “Would you like a drink?” It was common knowledge that Izaya never drank; he preferred to be in control of himself at all times. But if he had bothered bring the bottle, he was probably in the mood for a bit of a digression from his usual self. Shinra was proven right when the raven straightened his back and replied a cheerful ‘ _sure_ ’. “Let’s move to the living room, shall we?”

 

As rude and inconsiderate as ever, Izaya left his chopsticks and plate on the table and went to the living room without bothering to help Shinra with the bottle and the glasses. When the doctor entered the living room, he found him leisurely settled in one corner of the couch, with his legs snuggled against his chest. He set the glasses on the table and poured them both a drink before sitting down in the armchair next to the couch. Izaya reached for his drink and examined the glass for a moment, turning it slowly in his hand.

 

“I like sake, just as long as it’s bitter”. Shinra had the feeling the raven was talking to himself and so he didn’t bother reply.

 

“Are you feeling better?” It was a rather dubious question; what he was really asking was whether Izaya finally felt better about everything that had happened, but it could also mean whether he was feeling better from the illness. Izaya seemed to read through it without a hint of hesitation. He sipped his drink and looked up at the doctor, his eyes glowing with something more than just the alcohol.

 

“I’m feeling much better now that I had the time to rest. I think I slept for two days in a row”

 

“You did, more or less”

 

“It was nice to finally sleep without waking up to look for him”. They watched each other silently for a few moments. Shinra didn’t seem keen on commenting. “I wake up, late at night, expecting to find him in bed with me. I can almost smell his scent in my sheets. Ha! I wake up hard and aching for his touch – any kind of touch, whether it’s a gentle or a forceful one”, he took another sip from his drink and brought the glass to his eyes, as if he could see his reflection on it. “I am disgusting, aren’t I?”

 

Shinra crossed his legs and sipped his drink before answering. He didn’t like where the conversation was going; he was happy Izaya felt comfortable enough to talk to him about such things, but at the same time he could sense that every word pushed his friend closer to Ikebukuro’s monster and he would be anything but glad for such a relapse.

 

“You’re not disgusting – just hopeless, perhaps”

 

The words didn’t seem to reach Izaya though; he finished his drink with a gulp and refilled his glass before leaning back against the back of the couch.

 

“Have you heard from him at all?”

 

The words were spoken in a hushed voice, almost as if he didn’t wish Shinra to hear them – the doctor himself wished he hadn’t. Should he lie or should he tell him the truth? Izaya’s eyes were fixed on the coffee table in front of him; he seemed to be trying hard to avoid eye contact. It couldn’t have been easy for him to ask the question, and there was no doubt he truly cared to hear the answer; he wouldn’t have put himself in this situation otherwise. But Shinra wanted to protect him more than he wanted to reassure him about the blonde. He felt the need to keep the two away from each other and telling Izaya about his meeting with Shizuo would certainly defeat that purpose. When those unique reddish irises looked up to meet Shinra’s bespectacled eyes, the doctor finally replied.

 

“No, I haven’t”. The reply didn’t seem to satisfy Izaya who frowned.

 

“Celty hasn’t met up with him yet?”

 

“Not that I know of, but she hasn’t been talking to me all that much lately. She’s been very busy though, I doubt she got the time to visit him. You can ask her yourself if you like”

 

Izaya shook his head and downed his drink, squeezing his eyes shut as the alcohol burnt his throat. He refilled his glass before refilling Shinra’s as well.

 

“Do you think he wants to see me again?”

 

Izaya was slowly slipping back to that hopeless lost creature Shinra had had to hold in his hands every night for a whole week, and the doctor was starting to feel hopeless himself. He sipped his drink and leaned back in the armchair, trying to look as casual as possible.

 

“ _You_ shouldn’t want to see him”

 

“I shouldn’t, but I do”, Izaya was staring at his glass, as if the answer to all this was somewhere in the bottom of that drink. Shaking his head in frustration, Shinra sighed.

 

“I always knew you had a thing for him, but I never expected you to actually fall in love with that brute”

 

The words seemed to wake Izaya from his torpor and he laughed at the incredulity of the statement.

 

“It’s not _love_ I’m talking about, Shinra!”

 

“It’s not sex you’re talking about either. So what _are_ you talking about?”

 

Izaya seemed to consider it for a while. He stretched his legs and then brought them to his chest again, hugging them tightly and propping his chin on his knees. He pressed his glass against his cheek, as if he needed it to cool him down and fixed his gaze on some spot in front of him.

 

“I don’t know… Power, maybe… Pleasure… Sex – of course it’s sex I’m talking about! Do you two ever have sex?” he nodded towards the room where Celty had disappeared to earlier, looking straight at Shinra.

 

“That’s none of your business!”

 

“I don’t mean to pry!”, the mischievous look on his face told Shinra that of course he did. “I’m just wondering if you can understand a thing I’m telling you”. He watched the doctor expectantly for a few moments, but Shinra wasn’t interested in offering an answer. “When he fucks me… when he forces himself inside me, holding on to my hips with bruising force…I couldn’t escape him even if I wanted to. And I don’t mean just that night; every time we had sex, it was exactly the same. He was always the one in control. He could break me apart if he wanted to – he could thrust himself inside me hard enough to break my spine, and he wouldn’t even have to use half his strength. It’s…stimulating…how powerless I feel in his hands. And that feeling, the sensation of being filled by him – I couldn’t tell you how bad it hurts, every single time, yet it feels so good at the same time. It’s as if that space inside me was only left there for him to fill it”. Shinra was listening carefully, understanding what Izaya was telling him far better than the informant himself did. He kept silent, however, allowing him the time to state his case as explicitly as he felt like. “I’ve never felt so connected to anyone – and I’ve had enough experience with all kinds of people. Maybe because he’s so much different than anyone else – maybe because he’s the only one who is actually a threat to me – maybe just because he used to hate me so much. I don’t care why. The pain and the pleasure mix into the most refreshing and liberating sensation. He can mold me into anything he likes at that moment – it’s scary, really. But then, when he comes inside me – that’s probably my favorite moment – I feel him swell up inside me – and fuck, does it hurt! – he goes stiff and his body tenses up, every single muscle outlined under his skin, and then I feel him spasm deep in my ass, making my insides shudder as he fills me up with himself… Ikebukuro’s strongest, rendered weak inside me… Fuck…”

 

His eyes were shut by now and his voice had dropped a tone; the memory was clearly turning him on. Shinra hemmed awkwardly, feeling rather embarrassed witnessing his friend with his guard completely down. Izaya looked at him with hazy eyes and downed his drink again before refilling his glass – contrary to the doctor, he didn’t seem at all embarrassed.

 

“I wish I could be glad that you finally found someone to care about. But I’m not. You deserve better”

 

Wry laughter was the last kind of response he expected. Izaya sipped his drink, still laughing at the rim of his glass.

 

“I hardly deserve _him_!” He spoke into his glass and Shinra had to tell himself that he had misheard him.

 

“What did you just say?!”

 

“You heard me”. There was a moment of heavy silence – Izaya staring at Shinra as the doctor fought to stomach that statement. “Did your father ever tell you he loved you?”

 

“My father might have been a lot of things, but he was never a liar”

 

Izaya smiled approvingly, taking a gulp from his drink.

 

“He said he’d missed me…”

 

“When you visited him, at the prison?”

 

Izaya shook his head quietly, observing the doctor closely. Shinra didn’t seem at all surprised at the information, which was intriguing to say the least of it. It was almost as if he knew something Izaya didn’t, and the real question was: what was his source of information?

 

“That night…before all hell broke loose”. He reached for the bottle, ignoring Shinra’s reproachful look, and spoke the next sentence while refilling his glass. “I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean”, and he leaned back, looking straight at the doctor, “no one’s ever missed me before”

 

“I miss you all the time when I don’t see you”. Izaya smirked at him knowingly.

 

“Like father like son; you are a terrible liar!” Shinra frowned.

 

“I do think about you”

 

“I think about all kinds of people on a daily basis – I wouldn’t say I miss them; they’re two different things, I guess”

 

Shinra sipped the rest of his drink and reached for the bottle to refill his glass. Seeing him do so, Izaya downed his drink once again and held his glass out. Shinra raised an eyebrow in disapproval.

 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough already?”

 

“It will help me sleep”. Shinra hesitated for a moment, but eventually filled his friend’s glass.

 

“You don’t sleep well?”

 

“I don’t sleep at all. I wake up so many times during the night, I feel more tired in the morning than I did before going to bed”

 

There wasn’t much to think about; Celty would go mad at him, but Shinra felt compelled to make the suggestion – after all, he feared that if he let Izaya go, he would probably end up at Shizuo’s apartment rather than his own, and he simply couldn’t allow that.

 

“Why don’t you stay here tonight? You can sleep in the guest room. It might help – not being alone”

 

Their eyes locked and Shinra couldn’t help but notice a disturbing glimmer in Izaya’s gaze. The raven watched him for a while, sipping his drink bemused.

 

“Do you usually sleep with Celty?”

 

Shinra couldn’t detect any mischievousness in his voice and so decided to actually reply to his question this time.

 

“Yes, we sleep in the same bed”

 

Izaya smirked and draped himself over the arm of the couch, stretching his upper body and folding his legs underneath him. He traced a finger around the rim of his glass invitingly, before taking a sip from his drink.

 

“Would you sleep with me tonight if I asked you to?”

 

He should have known – he really should have. Shinra tsked and rolled his eyes exasperated.

 

“I _hate_ this slutty version of you”

 

“Your loss”, Izaya shrugged and gulped his drink.

 

“Why would you even ask me to sleep with you?”

 

“I don’t like sleeping alone”

 

“Since when?”

 

Izaya stretched his arm out to put his glass on the table in front of him, not taking his eyes off Shinra for a single moment.

 

“Since your friend pinned me down to his bed and ravaged my body until I could no longer breathe”

 

“He is not my friend”, he squeezed the glass in his hand and gritted his teeth, but if anything, Izaya looked amused. He stood up, straightening his clothes.

 

“Of course he is. It’s touching that you care enough to get angry at him for what he did to me, but he’s still your friend; just last week you were telling me what a nice guy he is”, it was obvious that he took pleasure at those words and what they meant to Shinra now that he knew the truth.

 

“I didn’t know back then”

 

“True. If only knowledge was enough to change our feelings”. Shinra sensed that Izaya was talking more about himself than him. “I guess I’m going home then”

 

“Wait…” No matter how annoying the man was, Shinra couldn’t simply let him go after having drunk as much and while he was still such an emotional wreck. “Stay here tonight. We’ll finish the bottle, we’ll chat about nonsense - or you can tell me more about Shizuo if you like…” Izaya was standing right there at his spot, but he didn’t seem convinced. There was no escaping it, even though he knew Celty would never forgive him for dumping her to keep the informant company. Shinra sighed, giving up. “I’ll sleep with you if that’s what you want”. Izaya clapped his hands and smirked triumphantly, dropping back in the couch. “In separate futons! And if you dare touch me, I swear to god I will put you down!”

 

“You’re such a killjoy, aren’t you?”

 

They spent the greatest part of that night in the living room, chatting about their school days and laughing at Shizuo’s expense. They went to bed in the guest room, in separate futons – Celty was literally fuming, despite Shinra’s best efforts to explain the situation to her – but, as expected, Shinra ended up holding Izaya until the morning light, in a desperate attempt to keep him calm. The evening was repeated with few changes for the next few days, until Izaya’s plan got to phase two.

 

 


	30. All as planned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There is nothing I can’t do. There’s only a few things I’m not interested in doing”

Yuhei Hanejima was all over the news. Reporters followed him around everywhere, his picture was on every magazine’s front page and not a day went by without some of the most private moments of the Heiwajima family coming to light. Izaya watched it all from the comfort of his own living room, the large tv staying on day and night so he could enjoy the story to its fullness. The reporters were digging deep, just as he had hoped, and in less than a week Shizuo’s face was just as recognizable around Tokyo as his brother’s. The blonde’s whole life was out in the open; every failure, every property damage, every broken bone – his or one of his victims’. Izaya felt like he would be rubbing his hands together was it not such a stereotypical villain thing to do. Now that the beast’s life was being torn apart, sweet Kasuka’s image crumbling to pieces day by day, it was finally time for him to meet his nemesis again.

 

He picked a gloomy day for that meeting – the sun had refused to come out and grey clouds loomed over the city but refused to rain down on it. Shinra was bound to tell him off if he showed up soaked wet and Izaya was planning to meet the beast just before his regular visit to the doctor’s for dinner and lazy talk. He picked his clothes for the meeting that morning, after having his shower. Nothing special, just the usual black jeans and black v-neck, yet the clothes seemed to fit him much better than last time he dressed himself to go see Ikebukuro’s monster – locked up in a cage like a common criminal. Having dinner with Shinra every evening had definitely had an effect. Not that his body had actually toned up in the week that had passed, but at least color had returned to his face and he felt stronger and more energetic. He spent the day working on new cases; going through files, talking with clients on the phone and networking, hidden behind his computer screen. Namie seemed thankful of the fact that she no longer had to do all the work herself and the day passed rather quietly. Until early in the afternoon, when the phone rang.

 

It was the landline and Namie picked up, only to transfer the line to Izaya after exchanging a few formal greetings with whoever was on the other side of the call. Before picking up the earpiece, Izaya glanced up towards his assistant’s direction and she offered the name of the caller disinterested.

 

“It’s Shiki-san”

 

With an annoyed huff he picked up the phone and, forcing the most cheerful tone, he answered the call.

 

“Shiki-san! Such a pleasure to hear from you!”

 

From her desk across the room Namie rolled her eyes and Izaya made a face at her while listening to the Awakusu-Kai member.

 

“As much as I would looo~ove to see you again after all this time, unfortunately I cannot have any clients over at my office right now… No, no, nothing of the sort… Now, really Shiki-san, I expected you to know better than to believe the rumors…”

 

Namie watched him with clear amusement as he tried to keep his mask up while struggling to avoid a meeting he was not yet ready for. Izaya offered a few more excuses until finally sighing and giving up.

 

“I see… Yes, I will be at my office… That’s fine, I will be waiting for you”

 

He hung up and glared at the phone as if the device had been responsible for the unwanted call. Apart from Namie and Shinra, Izaya hadn’t been around people yet, and he hardly felt like he could face Shiki so soon. His right hand, finally free from the bandage but not yet fully functional, warily traced the scar right under his lower lip, trying to decide whether it was as obvious as he felt it was. The swelling and the bruises on his face had receded, but there were still traces of abuse on the skin on his forehead, where it had collided with the wall in Shizuo’s bedroom. Most people would probably not even notice it, but Shiki was not most people. Plus his insistence on meeting the informant in person had left Izaya with a chill.

 

“Take a break, will you?”

 

It was mainly the irritated tone that convinced Namie to look up from her work.

 

“I don’t feel like taking a break right now, thank you”

 

Nothing could irritate Izaya more than the fake politeness she would so often employ to mess with him.

 

“Better even, just call it a day. Go home, go make someone’s life miserable to make up for the fact that your brother has chosen another girl over you”

 

She hid every hint of annoyance behind a nasty smile as she got up and threw her things in her bag.

 

“What’s the matter, Orihara-san?” - the honorific nothing but an attempt to mock her boss even further - “You usually don’t mind me being around when you meet your clients. Or is this a personal matter? You’ve always had a twisted sense of taste, after all”

 

“Says the woman who lusts for her little brother!”

 

“At least I’m not the one who couldn’t sit for over two weeks”

 

Izaya felt like throwing one of his knives at her, but restrained himself and smiled amicably instead.

 

“For your own information, Shiki asked me to be alone when he comes over. It’s not my fault that my clients can’t trust you”

 

With all her things in her bag, her computer turned off and her desk piled with files, Namie cackled before turning to leave.

 

“If your clients had any sense, they wouldn’t trust _you_!”

 

It wasn’t long after Namie had left the office that the doorbell rang. Izaya stood up and quietly walked to the door, taking his time so as to make a point about how busy he was and how unwelcome his guests were. The Awakusu-Kai executive was followed by a bunch of his underlings, who strode past Izaya without sparing him a single look and spread out in his office. He detested those brainless men more than anything, but Shiki was never alone. So he showed his guest in the office and offered him some tea before sitting opposite him and stretching his arms on the back of the couch like a man who feared no one.

 

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Shiki-san?”

 

Shiki watched the skinny man opposite him quietly for a few moments. His eyes traced every inch of abused skin, every protruding bone, even the slight tremor of the informant’s hands, once so lethally steady that even a hand-shake felt like a calculated move. Then they found the characteristic black eyes with that red glow and locked calmly with them.

 

“You have been unreachable for some time now”

 

“Yes, I’m sorry but I had to take care of some personal matters”

 

Trapped under Shiki’s questioning look, Izaya couldn’t help but notice the constant tremor of his hands. It wasn’t too bad, but it was there and he couldn’t seem to control it. He shifted a bit, while the yakuza member opposite him pulled out a cigarette and brought it to his mouth. The gesture alone made Izaya feel weak. When the cigarette was lit and the first streak of smoke emerged in the room, the weakness turned into sickness and he had to shut his eyes to fight the urge to throw up.

 

“Can you please not smoke in my office?”

 

There was a moment of silence before he heard the sound of the other man’s weight shifting on the couch and his cigarette being crashed in the ashtray on the coffee table between them. A couple of deep breaths later, he opened his eyes to find the Awakusu-Kai executive studying him with worrying intensity.

 

“You never minded the smoke before”

 

Izaya forced a carefree smile and waved a hand dismissively.

 

“I’m afraid I can’t stand the smell anymore”

 

“Is that so?”

 

There was no hiding from a man like Shiki and Izaya knew it. He had been working with this man for years and he still couldn’t say that he fully understood him – which was exactly why he respected him (as much as Izaya could ever respect a human being). Shiki was interesting, to say the least of it. He was a skinny man who smoked obsessively and had way too much power for someone his age – just over thirty. He was not the average yakuza; as a matter of fact he was a very polite and soft spoken man, but at the same time he was not someone to mess with. Of course, Izaya had crossed him a million times already, and he had the feeling that Shiki knew. Yet he had never confronted the informant about it – not that he had never warned him. Izaya could sense fierce strength underneath that respectful persona and he had no doubt that if he ever decided it, Shiki could make him pay for all his lies and half-truths worse than he could even imagine. It was exactly that knowledge that made him push the man’s limits with every opportunity – he simply couldn’t help himself, playing with fire was what he fed on.

 

“What can I do for you, Shiki-san?”

 

“Heiwajima Shizuo”

 

Shiki spoke the name slowly, as if to check the effect it would have on the informant. But Izaya had been prepared for this conversation and managed to remain perfectly emotionless.

 

“Shizu-chan. What about him?”

 

“What’s the nature of your relationship with him?”

 

Izaya smirked amusedly and crossed his legs before replying.

 

“You sound like the police! Am I under interrogation?”

 

“I can assure you that this was not my intention. I was just trying to be discreet. But I need to know what he is to you”

 

“A toy. My worst enemy. My nemesis. Go ahead, take a pick”

 

“So you hate him and he hates you?”

 

“If you want to know what he thinks of me, you will have to ask him yourself. Why are you so interested in him all of a sudden?”

 

Shiki kept silent for a few moments, his gaze steadily locked with Izaya’s.

 

“I’ve asked around about him. Word on the street has it that he’s infatuated with you”

 

Izaya chuckled and waved a hand in the air.

 

“Can you blame him?”

 

“I also hear we smoke the same brand of cigarettes”

 

The information hit Izaya’s brain like a flood of icy water. He saw himself in the blonde’s living room, defeated, limping and bleeding, picking up his knives from the coffee table, the smoke of the beast’s just crushed cigarette filling his nostrils and making him nauseous.

 

“So?”

 

Shiki motioned for his men to leave the office and they obeyed without a word. Once the apartment door shut behind the last of his underlings, he changed his tone in that characteristic fatherly one he would always adopt when they were alone together.

 

“I am not interested in the gossip, Izaya. I want to know if you two are involved”

 

That caring, fatherly tone always made Izaya feel weak and small. He hated it even more than he hated Shiki’s men standing about in his office, listening in to the conversation. He almost wished they would come back.

 

“What does it matter to you whether we are involved?”

 

“I think you already know the answer to that question”

 

There was a moment of meaningful silence before Izaya looked away.

 

“He will go through trial and they will throw him in prison. Then you can do whatever you like to him”

 

“I doubt he will go to prison for even one day”

 

Their eyes met again and Izaya searched the other’s gaze for a trace that he indeed knew the whole story.

 

“His brother has done a great job helping him”

 

It was a test, and Shiki was aware of it. He wasn’t interested in making it easy for the informant, though.

 

“His brother has power, that’s true”

 

They held each other’s gaze for a moment, silently acknowledging the fact that they both knew but would rather not voice the truth.

 

“He is of no use to you dead”

 

His lips seemed to have moved out of their own volition; he hadn’t meant to defend the beast, yet the words had somehow been spoken. Shiki nodded regretfully.

 

“You’re right, he’s of no use to me dead. But he killed one of our own and I can’t let him walk around Ikebukuro like that. It reflects badly on the organization”

 

“Do you know what the boy he killed threatened to do to me?”

 

“I cannot control every empty-headed thug who joins the organization. I do not approve of their ways, but they are still one of us”

 

“So you want him dead?”

 

Instead of replying, Shiki stood up and paced around the office. Izaya tried to focus on the sound of the man’s footsteps, if only just to forget about the loud beating of his heart.

 

“I don’t _want_ him dead. But I have strict orders to get him off the streets, and I cannot ignore them”. Izaya turned to look at him, but Shiki was staring outside the window, with his back to the informant. The spacious room suddenly felt small. “Do you have a problem with that?”

 

“Would it make any difference if I did?” Shiki turned to look at him at that and, as their eyes met, Izaya let out a gurgle-like laughter. “I’ve wanted Shizu-chan dead since the day I met him. Only I always imagined _I_ would be the one to kill him”

 

Shiki nodded and walked back towards Izaya.

 

“That can be arranged. I want your help – you’ve been fighting him for years and seem to know him better than anyone. He’s not easy to capture or kill, and we can’t afford to lose more men; it would make the organization look like a joke”

 

“So you want me to… what? Set him up?”

 

“Are the rumors true?”

 

“…”

 

Izaya stared back at him but refused to answer. If he dared lie, Shiki would definitely know. So yet again, there was no escaping the truth, however neither of them felt the need to acknowledge it.

 

“I want you to deliver him to me, nice and quiet. You can be the one to pull the trigger if you like. Do you think you could manage that?”

 

A perfect plan, one he could not ruin even if he wanted to. A plan that he had set up in such a way that even if he changed his mind, he wouldn’t be able to stop what he had started. Izaya smirked at himself tiredly; he had truly devised the perfect plan. And now that Shiki had been informed by one of Izaya’s own sources that the trial would be nothing but a farce, there was nothing stopping the Awakusu-Kai from wanting Shizuo out of the streets.

 

“There is _nothing_ I can’t do, Shiki-san. There’s only a few things I’m not interested in doing”

 

Of course he could change his own plan if he wanted to. He had fooled so many people before, who was to say that he couldn’t fool himself this once? Shiki didn’t seem happy though. He pulled a cigarette out and placed it between his lips without lighting it.

 

“I suggest you give this some proper thought, Orihara-san”, his business-like tone having replaced the fatherly one, “I have turned a blind eye too many times for you, I expect you to pay me back for my trust with your loyalty. There is still time until the trial, but make up your mind quick; there is always a spare bullet for the organization’s enemies”

 

He lit his cigarette on his way out, leaving a puff of smoke behind him, as a farewell. Izaya stayed pinned to his spot, contemplating the odds of defeating the yakuza. His ego as inflated as ever, he didn’t doubt for a second that he could indeed play them all – especially since he had Ikebukuro’s monster by his side. He would leave the beast out of it if he could, but it was good to know that he could have the blonde’s muscle along with his own brain. All he had to do now was meet the man he had just been asked to kill.


	31. ...a friend indeed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment Shizuo’s head turned towards the alley, one of Izaya’s switchblades was thrown at him, going straight for his face.

It was a rather cold night and Izaya shivered under his fur-trimmed coat as he got on the train to Ikebukuro. Trains were undoubtedly his favorite means of transportation; he could sit back and watch his beloved humans unnoticed. Most people kept to themselves while on public means of transportation, reading their books or newspapers, typing on their phones with their earphones on, or just watching the view out of the windows. Izaya preferred to watch the view _inside_ the train. _His_ humans were so…transparent; so easy to read. He could tell, by the look on their faces and the way they sat in their seats, what they thought or felt throughout their ride. Sometimes it baffled him, that he could love these predictable creatures. It would make more sense for him to be fascinated by the peculiarities of monsters, such as Shizu-chan or the headless rider… In a way, he was fascinated by them; he would push them to their limits, just like he did with every human he came across in his life, and he would twist everything they thought they knew, just to watch them try and redefine themselves… So maybe he did love monsters, after all. Maybe he was full of love for every living creature out there, be it a human or not. He was a god, after all – or the closest to a god there was… He caught the eye of an adolescent girl watching him and sniggered to himself; he, the watcher, had become the watched. He was drifting so far into his thoughts that he had completely forgotten about his beloved humans surrounding him. He flashed a rather disturbing grin at the young girl, who immediately looked away, blushing wildly. _Such innocent creatures,_ Izaya thought to himself drifting back into his thoughts again. His brilliant plan was working perfectly; the press was tearing Kasuka’s image apart, Shizuo’s older friend, Shinra, not only knew the truth about what had happened, but was actually standing by Izaya’s side, in a way that he’d never stood by anyone else before, and the Awakusu-Kai was after Ikebukuro’s monster for killing one of their own. Everything was going as planned… He had indeed wanted Shizuo dead when he first devised his plan - not before he’d had the chance to play with him a little longer, but he’d certainly wanted him dead. A lot had changed since that day… He leaned against the closed doors of the wagon and crossed his arms in front of his chest, blankly staring at the seats opposite him. Shizuo and Shinra had become the two anchors in his life; each of them keeping him sane and pushing him forward in their way. It was funny, that Ikebukuro’s monster had managed to assume such an important part in his life without lifting a finger. He couldn’t claim to have forgiven him for what had happened – he was almost certain that forgiveness was not an option – but he was certainly not willing to sacrifice him in the name of some petty revenge. The beast was his favorite toy, he was the man who made life exciting, and he was to remain alive for as long as Izaya wanted him to. As for Shinra… that was another interesting story. Izaya racked his brain to remember just what he had thought of that weird bespectacled boy when they first met. All he could come up with was: annoying. Not that he hadn’t been intrigued by the quirkiness of his then classmate, but he couldn’t remember being in any way interested in him. As years passed, Shinra had become yet another challenge; another unachievable goal. He’d wanted his love, just like he’d wanted anyone’s love. But he had never received it – _never before_. In some dark corner of his mind, he felt that all his torture had been worth it, just to feel the warmth that the doctor was capable of. Izaya had never been treated so nicely before. He’d had to take care of himself and his younger sisters even as a child, and there was no one to console him when he was feeling poorly. Shinra holding him through tortured nights was the first truly intimate human contact he’d ever had, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t intoxicating. He wanted more of it; he was thirsty for the gentle smiles and the loving looks and the warm hugs late at night when his body would respond to memories carved deep in his conscious – memories that made his body shake and thrash violently. If it hadn’t been for Shinra, Izaya might have never actually made it through that madness. Shinra was his _friend_ , the only true friend he had ever made. Shinra had taken care of him at his worst. Shinra _loved_ him…

 

He twitched irritably as he reached his destination; his thoughts had been interrupted at the worst possible point. People swarmed off the train and on the platform, carrying him along with them. There was something detestable in the way his shoulders brushed with those of strangers as they rushed off to their homes, where their loved ones awaited them. Izaya knew that this was not entirely true; the majority of people were as lonely as he himself was, but that didn’t stop him from sulking as he stepped out of the station and into the busy street. He stood there for a while, just staring at the traffic with his hands in his pockets, his thought wandering back to that realization he had made on the train; _Shinra loved him_. People’s love was what he rightfully deserved – or so he had thought all his life – yet he had never actually received it before. Not like this. He’d had plenty of admirers, mostly teenage boys and girls who didn’t know any better, but he wouldn’t call their blind fascination love. None of those people would admire him if they knew him for who he truly was, and none of them would go out of their way to help him if they truly knew him. Shinra, however, knew the real person behind the masks and the smirks. He knew the real Izaya. And, even though he’d never bothered express his opinion, it was safe to assume that he disapproved of Izaya’s ways. And yet he had repeatedly stood by his side, he had repeatedly forgiven him for his immature and selfish behavior. Shinra had kept him alive and had gone out of his way to keep him safe. Shinra was the only person who had ever shown him this kind of unselfish, undemanding affection… He turned his face up to the sky and smiled contentedly; Shinra was the man he could trust, the _friend_ he could count on, the only human being who returned his love.

 

That thought kept him company all the way to the monster’s street. Reporters were spread all over the place; stationed in cars, perched on near-by terraces, even standing right in front of the building’s entrance, waiting for a chance to question the man who had become known as the monstrous brother of Japan’s most beloved idol. Shizuo should be returning from work any minute now and they were all on edge – no doubt having been the victims of countless rage fits before. Izaya lazily strolled into an alley close by but further down the street, so he’d be the first to spot the blonde when he came along, scoffing at the weak nature of his beloved humans; it was so obvious that every single one of the reporters out there would rather be in hell than waiting for Ikebukuro’s most dangerous man, and yet there they were, hoping against hope that the man would show up in a good mood and answer their questions rather than smash their equipment. He leaned against the wall and waited patiently until a familiar blond figure appeared at the end of the street. Izaya watched him expectantly, taking in every detail – the cigarette hanging from the beast’s lips, the bartender getup, the silly shades Shizuo wore even though it was late in the afternoon – and when there were only a few feet left between them, he called out the nickname which always drove the other mad.

 

“Shizu-chan!”

 

He made sure to call out loud enough for the monster to hear him, but quiet enough for him to go unnoticed by the reporters. The moment Shizuo’s head turned towards the alley, one of Izaya’s switchblades was thrown at him, going straight for his face. It was an old trick, one Shizuo knew too well, and he caught the knife in his hand without much effort, spiting his cigarette on the ground. The blade shone under the street lights, just as its owner flashed a taunting smirk at his nemesis.

 

“Would you mind returning that to me before we get sniffed out by the hounds?”, he nodded towards the building where Shizuo lived, but the blonde didn’t even bother look that way; he knew just who Izaya was referring to. Besides, his eyes were now glued on that black clad figure and his breath caught in his throat.

 

“You shouldn’t throw away things you want”. He watched Izaya’s lips spread out into a grin and his heart sped up at the sight. It was so tempting, to be so close to the man with no bars between them, but he wasn’t sure he could trust himself and so he kept still where he was, a few feet away from the dark alley, with the switchblade in his hand.

 

“That’s a lesson I haven’t had to learn, I’m afraid”, the self-satisfied grin on his face sent waves of warmth in Shizuo’s chest, “I always get what I want in the end”, and he held a hand out – for his knife or his lover, neither he nor Shizuo could tell for sure.

 

Shizuo’s eyes trailed back to the reporters swarming outside his building; that was all Izaya’s doing. And yet that inviting gesture was pulling him into the dark alley. He looked back at the raven and allowed his body to move forward, almost as hypnotized. Every step brought him closer to the man who had monopolized his thoughts for too long now, and he couldn’t tell whether he wanted to hold him or punch him in the face for everything he’d had to suffer. When they were close enough, Shizuo standing at the threshold between street lights and secluded darkness, he held the knife out towards its owner. Izaya took it, allowing his fingers to linger on the slick surface longer than necessary before actually pulling it away from the other’s hand. He then took a step backwards, further into the darkness, his wide grin inviting Shizuo along with him.

 

“Care to join me?”

 

It was no more than a step and Shizuo wanted more than anything to be near Izaya, so his hesitation only lasted for a few seconds. Once inside the alley, he took his sunglasses off and leaned heavily against the wall. Izaya was leaning against the wall right opposite him, his hands in his pockets, his face lit up by the most promiscuous smirk – in fact, his whole posture was exactly that: promiscuous. The way he leaned his body against the grey concrete, his legs crossed and his head slightly tipped to the side, his image screamed of lust and mischief. Shizuo felt his mouth water and pulled a cigarette out to choke the desire. He was too busy lighting it to see the change in Izaya’s expression; the raven felt his stomach churn at the gesture, the memory of just how bad the smell of smoke had affected him earlier that afternoon sending chills down his spine. It was not so much the physical reaction itself that bothered him, as it was the fact that he’d appear weak in front of Shizu-chan, and that was something he’d never again allow himself. The first blow of smoke that came his way, though, left him feeling just a little bit dizzy and nothing more. He peered through the grey cloud at the man who had just blown it out, inhaling deep despite the fact that he disliked the stench of cigarettes, and laughed merrily. Shizuo watched him quietly until the laughter died down.

 

“What’s so funny?”

 

“Nothing! I’m just glad to see you again”

 

The words knocked the air out of Shizuo’s lungs, but he refrained from commenting. He stood there silent, smoking his cigarette and watching Izaya carefully. The raven kept silent as well, his promiscuous smirk always there but not at all rigid; _not a mask,_ Shizuo noticed. _Such a beautiful image: the man who’s ruining my life, staring at me with that promiscuous expression._ He almost felt like laughing at himself, but he’d rather not have to voice his thoughts; blood red was boring into him.

 

“You look good”

 

Izaya’s lips spread out into a grin again and Shizuo noticed that the smile actually reached the man’s eyes; _definitely not a mask._

“You don’t look bad yourself. You certainly look better than on the newspapers”, and the grin fell into a smirk again.

 

There was no doubt that Shizuo was angry for everything that was happening. Yet, even though the man responsible for everything was standing right before him, all he could feel for that skinny figure was painful desire. He chewed on his cigarette butt for a while, before looking away.

 

“You shouldn’t have involved my brother”

 

“I didn’t. He got himself involved”

 

Shizuo had heard that before, when he was still locked in that prison cell, and it had sounded as absurd as it did now. The moment Izaya had even thought of Kasuka, everything was already planned out to the last detail, he had no doubt. That was the way Izaya worked and there was no reason why this occasion should have been any different. Izaya had wanted this to happen; he’d wanted Shizuo’s family to suffer, to hate him most probably. His plans always went his way, only there was one little detail he hadn’t considered; Shizuo’s family loved him and they wouldn’t abandon him, no matter what. His eyes went back to the man opposite him and he silently wondered whether perhaps Izaya had never actually been loved by anyone. That would explain his inability to understand that the people who loved Shizuo would never turn against him.

 

“They went to my parents’ home Izaya”

 

“Your mother is a charming woman!” His taunting smirk, so damned familiar, sent Shizuo’s blood boiling.

 

“ **They have my medical files, for fuck’s sake!** ”

 

“Keep your voice down, unless you want to see our picture in the papers tomorrow”. Despite the warning, Izaya didn’t seem at all worried. Shizuo, on the other hand, warily checked to see that no reporter was coming their way. “It wasn’t easy to get them, but it was worth the trouble”. Izaya’s voice dragged Shizuo back to the conversation, his eyes darting back to the raven and looking more menacing than before. This talk of his family was agitating him and he dragged on his cigarette hungrily in an attempt to control the rising anger. “And your pretty brother’s career is crumbling to pieces; I hear some of his contracts have been cancelled already”

 

“Well don’t throw a party just yet!” he spit the words vehemently but regretted it before he’d even finished his sentence. Izaya was riling him up on purpose; it’s what he always did. The bastard deserved to have his teeth kicked in for getting Shizuo’s family involved in all this shit, but then Shizuo himself deserved a lot worse for what he’d done to him. He sighed resignedly and threw his cigarette on the ground, crashing it with his shoe. If they were to get through this crap and find a way to move forward, he’d have to be the better man here. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and looked straight into Izaya’s eyes, trying hard to ignore the mischievous glimmer he could see in them.

 

“Let’s not fight, ok?”

 

“Who’s fighting?”

 

Shizuo bit his tongue in order not to lash out at the bastard and sighed again, lowering his eyes to the ground.

 

“I’m… I’m really sorry for what happened, Izaya”. He wouldn’t dare raise his face before he’d heard a reply – he understood very well that he had no right to apologize – but his eyes flew up at the informant without realizing it when he heard the man laugh hysterically. At first he thought that it was just the shock and he expected the laughter to end soon, but when it didn’t he scowled, wondering whether he was actually being mocked for doing what was expected of him. “What’s so damned funny?” Izaya’s laughter only grew more hysterical and Shizuo mustered all the strength inside him not to grab the louse by the neck. He took a deep breath and did his best to ignore the annoying cackles. “I never should have hurt you that way, Izaya. I don’t know how else to apologize, but I’m sorry – I really am, and I would take it all back if I could”

 

He literally spoke in one breath, just aching to get it all out of his system, to let Izaya know how he felt, but his confession was not met with the understanding, or forgiveness, he was hoping for. Before he could finish his last sentence, Izaya lashed out at him with his knife in his hand. He pressed the blade against the blonde’s jugular and breathed heavily in his face, his eyes burning like flames. He brought his face so close that his breath brushed against the other’s tanned skin with every word.

 

“I don’t _want_ your apology, Shizu-chan, I don’t want you to be sorry; I want you to be proud of yourself, I want you to _brag_ about what you did. Not everyone gets to break me into pieces”

 

Izaya was so close that Shizuo couldn’t stop his mind from imagining his hands on that body. Not even the blade that was pressing dangerously against his skin could stop the reaction that this proximity was causing in his body; his breath turned heavy while his heart beat fast, and he tried his best to control his voice as he begged for the informant’s forgiveness.

 

“I _am_ sorry, Izaya. I would do anything to prove it. I’m sorry for everything – I’m so sorry, I hate myself for what I did, please…”

 

The look in Izaya’s face turned even more vicious and anger flashed in his eyes as he brought the knife right under the blonde’s chin, pushing the blade enough to break the skin.

 

“You don’t deserve my forgiveness, beast. You’re still alive and that’s more than you should ever ask for”

 

Forgiveness was out of the question – somewhere deep inside, Shizuo had known that from the very first moment. The man standing right in front of him, holding a sharp blade right under his chin with the intention of pressing it all the way inside his neck, had every right to end his life there and then. Shizuo would do nothing to stop him. His eyes locked with the other’s and there was no denying the pain he could read in those blood red orbs.

 

“Go ahead, do it”

 

From such short distance, Shizuo caught the change in Izaya’s expression with no effort. The hysteria in his eyes was instantly snuffed out and his hand trembled, causing the blade that was pressing against Shizuo’s skin to dig in deeper. Shizuo’s eyes fluttered shut momentarily but he forced them open again to gaze deep into Izaya’s.

 

“Kill me, if it will make you feel better”

 

Izaya’s hand trembled heavily and despite his efforts he couldn’t seem to control it. He drew the blade back, waving it playfully in the air as he flashed a calculated devilish grin.

 

“Why would I kill my favorite pet, Shizu-chan? I’m sure I can think of better things to do to you” and he took a step back, more to avoid the blonde’s piercing gaze rather than to put some distance between them - he was enjoying the proximity, even if he had let anger get the best of him for a moment. “Let’s not sulk over the past. We both had our fun – we both enjoyed ourselves”

 

“I _didn’t_ enjoy…th-that!” That was the worst accusation he had ever heard and he denied it with everything he had. Izaya seemed to be intrigued by the violent reaction his words had drawn.

 

“Did you not? I’m sure you enjoyed showing me just who is in control”, he took that step towards the blonde again, this time properly pressing his body against his, standing on his toes and bringing their lips so close together that they almost touched. “I’m sure you enjoyed breaking me… and I look forward to letting you do it again”

 

“Stop that”. Instead of turning him on, like Izaya was hoping, this game was in fact making Shizuo nauseous. He grabbed Izaya’s skinny arms and pushed him away, speaking the next words without giving it much thought: “I’m not one of those men, Izaya”. When he realized what he had just said, he wished he could swallow his tongue, but it was too late. Izaya was staring at him bewildered.

 

“What men?”

 

It was too late to take it back, so now there was nothing else he could do, but try and not cause the wrath of his little god, like Izaya liked to call himself. He swallowed hard and, still holding on firmly to the other’s skinny arms, just to be on the safe side, he spoke slowly, cautiously, hoping to god that Izaya would for once act like a grown-up rather than a spoilt too-proud-for-his-own-good brat.

 

“You should have told me. You should have asked for help”

 

Izaya struggled to break free, but to no avail. The beast made no sense at all, but still his words caused the informant to panic.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“I never would have hurt you – I would have helped in any way I could. But instead of asking for help you just turned into this vicious brat who constantly tried to make everyone miserable”

 

The conversation was awkward – uncomfortable to say the least of it. Izaya struggled some more, but Shizuo was holding him too firmly and his words bled worse than a blade. A suspicion crept into Izaya’s mind – a suspicion that left him breathless and lightheaded and he started kicking the blonde to free himself.

 

“ **Let go of me!** ”

 

“It drives me furious that someone could do this to a child, to you, and I wish I knew who it was so I could kick the life out of them…” Shizuo finally let go and Izaya slumped against the wall behind him, trembling heavily. “It’s funny, isn’t it? I would kill that person if I could get my hands on him, but I’m not man enough to kill myself for doing the exact same thing”. Shizuo felt like falling to his knees and begging Izaya to either kill him or forgive him already. But he knew now that Izaya would never forgive him, even if he couldn’t kill him either.

 

“Wh-who…who told you that?”

 

Izaya had shrank against the wall, almost squatting down and shaking violently. Was it the shock, or the rage, he could hardly tell himself. Shizuo watched him for a moment before lighting another cigarette.

 

“Who do you think?”

 

The answer was evident, Izaya knew it himself; there was only one person who knew all these things and who could have told the blonde. There was only one person who knew Izaya so well; his only friend, Shinra. He brought his hands up and hugged his shoulders tightly, digging his nails in the fabric of his coat with hatred. _Shinra._ The man who _loved_ him, his one and only friend – the one he could _trust._ He burst into laughter, a laughter so broken and vicious that Shizuo almost shivered at the sound of it. Without another word he jumped up and headed for the street, but Shizuo caught him by the arm and dragged him back.

 

“Don’t go! Let me explain first”

 

If he let him go, he might never see him again. He should have known better than to reveal the fact that he knew Izaya’s ugliest secrets – nothing good could possibly come out of that. The informant was too proud. However, Izaya didn’t seem at all angry at him. Quite the contrary; he brought a hand up and gently caressed the side of Shizuo’s face, curling a bleached strand in his fingers.

 

“We’ll see each other again soon. Right now I have to go see an old friend”

 

He would have hold on to him, if it hadn’t been for that loving gesture. His hands and knees went weak and all he could do was stand there still and watch the familiar skinny figure disappear in the street traffic. The touch of those bony fingers was still ghosting over his face and Izaya’s spicy scent had flooded the whole neighborhood. He threw his cigarette away and strolled up the street, to the building where his apartment was situated, smiling amicably at the reporters that came running his way. Tonight, he might even bother to answer some of their questions.


	32. So fast, so numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have you heard from the beast, Shinra?”

“I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, but I know I can’t fix it unless you tell me”

Celty remained motionless, her back to Shinra who had been desperately trying to get her to talk to him for the past fifteen minutes, her arms stubbornly folded in front of her chest.

“You are obviously punishing me for something, but unless I know what that is, there is no way I can make it right!”

If he kept coaxing her like that, she would eventually tell him, there was no doubt. Shinra was surprised that she had even managed to give him the silent treatment for so long; it wasn’t like her to act that way. He strode the few feet separating them and cautiously raised his hands to her shoulders, just breathing her name, but she tensed up immediately and flinched away from the touch, sending his heart to his stomach.

“Celty…” She remained motionless with her back to him and he had to muster all the courage in him to raise his arms and wrap them around her thin waist, leaning his forehead against a leather-covered shoulder. He was relieved not to receive any jabs in the stomach, but the cold body pressed against his was still rigidly faced away from him. “Please, just tell me what I’ve done wrong and I promise I’ll do anything to make it right – anything!” He could feel her hesitate, even though there were no facial expressions for him to interpret, no breaths to read into them. And then a cold finger brushed against his knuckles. She freed herself from his arms and turned to face him, so that Shinra was faced with his own reflection on her helmet, which she always kept on when Izaya was coming over.

_He’s late…_

He only realized he was thinking about the informant when he noticed Celty’s rigid posture as she again folded her arms in front of her, and he was fast to apologize, knowing just how much she disliked the man.

“I’m sorry, I’m just worried because it’s not like him to be late”. The way she nervously tapped her foot told him he had completely screwed up. “Let’s – let’s **not** talk about Izaya. Just tell me what I’ve done wrong”

It was never a good sign when she cocked her helmet to the side like that. He’d almost taken a step towards her, seriously worried about his physical integrity, when he heard the bell ring and sighed in relief inwardly. He didn’t dare move to the door though, he just stood there frozen, watching Celty expectantly, as if he needed her permission. She remained still for a few long moments, enjoying his frustration in a way far more sadistic than she ever thought herself capable of, before pulling her PDA out of her sleeve and typing on it purposefully slowly.

[Go ahead, open the door for your friend. You’ve been preparing for his visit all day]

He hesitated for a moment – he really wanted to rush to the door to make sure that Izaya was alright and hadn’t done anything foolish, which would explain his showing up late – before deciding to stay put and reply to her scathing comment.

“That’s not true. I’ve been trying to get you to speak to me all day”

The bell rang again and Shinra rolled his eyes at his friend’s impatience – _he’s the one who stood me up!_

[Go on, don’t keep your dear sadistic psychopath waiting]

He almost felt like arguing with her about whether   Izaya was a sadist or a masochist – there was no denying the psychopath part, even though he could have bothered explain the unprofessionalism of the word – when his dear friend started kicking the door in his characteristically considerate way. So he turned on his heels instead and stomped to the door, determined to tell him off this time. As he opened the door, he heard Celty slam the door to her room, disappearing in it like she did whenever Izaya was around.

“Speak of the devil!”

Izaya stooped forward and peered into the apartment, scanning the space in the most tactless manner.

“Compliments won’t help you!”

Shinra only got a glimpse of the murderous grin on his friend’s face as he breathed the words, right before raising his boot and kicking him in the stomach, sending him slamming against the wall opposite the door. Before he could even process what had just happened, Izaya had grabbed a fistful of hair and was yanking it painfully, forcing the doctor’s head back and exposing his neck to the sharp blade he was holding.

“Have you heard from the beast, Shinra?”

It took him a moment to understand the question and all that it implied, but as realization dawned on him, Izaya brought the knife to his neck and drove the tip inside the skin, just to make his point clear as he marveled on the fear evident in the other’s eyes.

“You told me you hadn’t seen him. You would tell me if you had, wouldn’t you?”

Shinra had received all kinds of emotional and psychological abuse from the informant, but he had never before been physically threatened by him with a knife, and to claim that he wasn’t terrified would be a blatant lie. It wasn’t so much the blade itself that scared him though, as it was the manic expression on the man’s face; he was completely out of control.

“Cat got your tongue, Shinra?” He drew the knife up the doctor’s chin and traced it lightly across his squeezed shut lips. “How about you open your mouth and talk to me before I slit your throat, huh?”

“Y-you wou-wouldn’t”, he stuttered pitifully, but instead of laughing at him, Izaya just stared into his eyes, his expression unreadable as he pressed the blade flat against his own cheek and cocked his head to the side.

“You know everything about me, my dear friend, don’t you? I think I should teach you a couple of things you _don’t_ know”, and without a moment of hesitation he drove the knife into Shinra’s thigh, making him cry out from the pain. His eyes reflected the blood gashing from the wound as they burned deep red, the way they did whenever he was truly losing it. Shinra struggled to come up with the right words to talk him back to his senses, but his voice refused to cooperate and before the knife was even pulled out of the wound he saw the familiar black shadows rising up behind Izaya’s back, right before he was thrown across the living room, crashing down on the coffee table. Celty strode the distance to the groaning, crawling mess that was now the man who had dared attack the doctor in his own house, picked him up with her shadows and slammed him against the wall behind him with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs. Immobilized on his spot at the hallway, Shinra watched as she blocked Izaya’s airway with her hand and brought her scythe to his face with clear murderous intent.

“ **Wait!** ” The informant didn’t deserve his help, yet Shinra simply couldn’t stop himself from limping all the way to where Celty was standing, just a few inches away from the man, who was clearly choking with his back painfully pushed against the wall and his neck squeezed by the dullahan’s cold fingers. “ **Let him go Celty, you’re choking him!** ” He was faced with his own reflection once again, as she turned her helmet in his direction, no doubt mad at him. “He didn’t mean to hurt me, Celty, I swear. It was an accident. **Please, let him go!** ” he tugged on her arm and she eventually released her hold on Izaya’s neck. Finally free from the deadly grip, he slid half-way down the wall gulping air and coughing as he choked on it, his eyes tearing up at the effort. Instead of keeping his mouth shut and appreciating Shinra’s attempt to save his life though, he just laughed viciously as soon as he’d caught his breath.

“He’s right; I didn’t mean to hurt him, I meant to kill him, but then you stopped me!”

“ **Shut up, Izaya!** ”

Celty dragged him up from the hair and gathered her shadows above her helmet, turning them into a sharp spear and bringing it down against his forehead. The only reason she didn’t push it all the way inside that twisted brain was because Shinra was furiously tugging on her arm and pleading with her to stop.

“ **Don’t do this, Celty! He’s not well, you can tell he’s not well – just look at him!** ” He was right, despite the extremely dangerous position he was in and the fact that he was trembling heavily, Izaya was grinning like an idiot, goading her on with those crazed eyes. “He’s been through hell lately, you know it’s true. He’s harmless, just let him go. Please, please Celty, **please just let him go!** ”

Izaya seemed disappointed to feel her withdraw her hand from his hair – the spear still pointing against his forehead. He pouted mockingly and cocked his head to the side, ignoring the way her sharp shadows cut through his skin as he moved.

“That’s true, I’ve suffered so much lately. Maybe I should explain just what happened to me – maybe then you’ll be able to understand me”

“ **Izaya!** ”

Izaya’s burning eyes darted towards him and he smirked nastily.

“He doesn’t want me to tell you. He doesn’t trust you. Humans don’t trust monsters, you see”

“ **Shut up, Izaya, before I let her drive that spear right through your fucked up mind!** ”

“HA HA HA! Fucked up, he says! Dear courier-san, here, deserves to know just who fucked it up!”

Shinra couldn’t decide which was more dangerous: Celty’s sharp shadows or Izaya’s treacherous smirk. Both his friend, who was currently set on slitting his throat, and the woman he loved, who was so generously trying to protect him, had turned a questioning look at him and were now watching him intently.

“You promised me… You promised Izaya – I was holding you in my arms because you couldn’t even breathe from the pain, and you promised”

There was a flash of hurt in those blood red orbs, but it was gone too fast, replaced by the same nasty expression the informant had been wearing the moment he walked through the door.

“And you actually believed me?!”

Shinra’s shoulders drooped in disappointment and he could suddenly feel the pain from the wound on his thigh in every nerve on his body. Celty was still watching him, but instead of questioning him she just withdrew her shadows and, using her hands instead, she slammed Izaya’s back against the wall a couple of times and then let him drop to the floor like dead meat. That simple move sent the man’s skinny body shaking as his mind linked the pain in his back with the pain he had experienced that night, in the beast’s hands. He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his hands into fists, pressing them against the floor to steady himself, his lips set in a tight line. Shinra immediately guessed the reason for Izaya’s breakdown and dropped to his knees, ignoring the pain that shot up from his wound. He cupped his friend’s shoulders with his hands and pulled him close without a second thought. He wrapped his arms around the skinny body that was shuddering violently and held him tight, slowly massaging the back of his neck.

“Just breathe. Breathe and count backwards – you’ll be fine”

Celty was seriously shocked to watch him hold the informant as if nothing had happened. She felt the urge to grab that horrible man by the hair and throw him out, but Shinra was clearly determined to protect his friend, even if it meant he’d stand up against her. There was something he was keeping from her, she was now certain, and she hated the hollow feeling that realization gave her. She couldn’t help but think that those two deserved each other as a friend, and before she could do anything she heard Shinra’s voice, asking her the unthinkable.

“Leave us alone, please”. He raised his eyes to gaze into her helmet, seeing himself as he cradled his friend’s broken body in his arms. “I’ll be fine, trust me. Just leave us alone”.

 _Trust me._ How could he even ask her to trust him when he was so obviously keeping secrets from her? How could he stand by Izaya’s side, _against her,_ when she had just saved him from that insane man? She turned around and practically run to her room, slamming the door behind her.

As much as it pained him to see Celty disappear like that, Shinra simply couldn’t abandon Izaya at that state. He could feel the waves of violent shudders as they rippled through that fragile form and it tore his heart apart. The pain from the stab wound had paralyzed all of his left side, but he didn’t complain; he just held his friend close to him, breathing words of comfort and slowly rocking his body back and forth, to help him relax.

“It’s alright, you’re going to be ok… No one’s going to hurt you, I’ll make sure no one hurts you…. It’s fine, just calm down. Just breathe, Izaya, breathe in… breathe out… that’s good… Just breathe, concentrate on your breathing… Count your breaths, that will help you relax… I’m watching over you, you’ll be just fine”

Instead of relaxing, Izaya just tensed up even more, clenching his fists so hard that his fingernails dug into his skin. They’d spent hours like that in the past few weeks and he had always enjoyed the comfort of the doctor’s warm arms, but the way things were, he couldn’t allow himself to relax; he kept repeating the words in his head until he finally found the strength to voice them.

“You… b-be…trayed… me”

Shinra froze at the sound of those words, stunned at the fact that Izaya could take anything as seriously. He was so shocked that he hardly resisted when he was pushed back, landing on his wounded leg. He swallowed his groans, certain that if Celty intervened again it would be impossible to stop her before she’d seriously hurt the informant. Izaya crawled away from him, trembling heavily and incapable of standing on his feet, and pulled another switchblade out, raising it towards the doctor as if he meant to threaten him. The sight was pitiful as the hand holding the knife trembled so bad, it kept swaying from side to side.

“I’ve known you for almost two decades Izaya. I never received anything but insults from you. If I were to betray you, I wouldn’t have waited this long”

Izaya gripped the couch’s arm and pulled himself up, the blade always in his hand, his fingers squeezing it so tight his knuckles had turned white.

“I was trying to help!”

“H-help! Ha!”

Lying on his right side in order to relieve the pain in his wounded left thigh, Shinra sighed regretfully.

“I didn’t want you anywhere around him – I **don’t** want you anywhere around him!”

“That’s **my** decision to make”

“He’s dangerous, Izaya. If he lost it once and hurt you like this, it could always happen again – you’ll never be safe with him!”

Swaying on his feet, Izaya broke into manic laughter.

“Why would I want to be safe?! You’re such a bore, Shinra!”

“I knew you’d go back to him, sooner or later. I wanted to make sure you’d be safe with him, and now I am; I know he’d never hurt you again, not now that he knows”

Izaya rocked on his feet before jumping forward and grabbing the doctor by the collar, pulling him up to stare in his eyes.

“Why, Shinra? Why would he never hurt me again? Because he _pities_ me?”

As he was forced to stand on his feet again, his weight falling on his injured thigh and causing blood to gash from the wound, Shinra started feeling faint and had to hold on to his friend’s shoulders to steady himself. Izaya’s eyes were burning for an answer and the way he had spat that word it was more than obvious what the _wrong_ answer was. And yet Shinra couldn’t bring himself to lie.

“Yes, because he pities you. And I don’t care if he does, because at least that way you’re safe”

The scowl on Izaya’s face was warning enough; Shinra even managed to bite his lips before he was slammed against the wall again, that way succeeding to keep his voice down. The knife was raised to his face again and Izaya bumped their foreheads together, drawing his words out as a challenge.

“Do you think I’m _weak_ , Shinra?”

“I…I think you’re h...hurt – I th-think you need help”

“ _I_ think I should pluck your eye out!”

The point of the knife Izaya was holding was pressed against the skin right underneath Shinra’s eye socket and the doctor froze, avoiding to even blink for as long as that sharp blade was threatening to blind him.

“You won’t”, he managed to not stutter at all, knowing that his fear led the monster in Izaya on.

“And why is that, my dear friend? Because, deep down, I truly care about you? A HA! AH HAHAHAHA! Are you stupid enough to believe I care whether you live or die?”

 _What were Shizuo’s words again?_ He didn’t believe the words that reached his ears - the vicious laughter that accompanied them was proof enough of the unstable condition the man who had said them was in – but he clearly remembered Shizuo telling him how bad Izaya’s words had hurt him when he’d asked him if he had been stupid enough to believe he could care about him. And he couldn’t deny that he finally understood just how bad such words could hurt. He swallowed his pride and mumbled.

“Even if you don’t care about me, I still care about you”

Izaya’s eyes froze for a moment, all the viciousness and the madness in them snuffed out by that simple sentence. It didn’t last long, unfortunately. Shinra couldn’t put a name on the emotion he could detect in the man’s eyes, but it was no doubt distressing.

“You’re pathetic”, Izaya spat the words out vehemently and pushed Shinra’s face against the wall, knocking his glasses off and driving his knife deep inside the skin on the doctor’s temple. Shinra groaned loudly but kept his mouth shut, chewing on his lower lip to fight the urge to cry out. “What if I slit your throat, right here and now? Would you still care about me? What if I scar this pretty face of yours? What if I call _her_ out here and tell her everything you don’t want her to know? **Would you still care about me then?** ”

“Th-there’s nothin… you can d-do, to make me ha-hate you”

“Tsk tsk tsk”, Izaya shook his head in mock disappointment, “such a terrible liar! Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell her a thing. She’d probably kill me if I did. But I can’t help but wonder; if I sliced you up right now, how long would it take her to forget your face? A century or two? Such a small period of time compared to eternity! But maybe I’m wrong, maybe it would take less than a decade. Maybe she’d have forgotten the sound of your voice before I was out the door! What do you say, should we find out?”

Shinra didn’t dignify the question with an answer. He just stared back into Izaya’s eyes, wishing he’d just get on with whatever it was that he wanted to do and disappear already. But the informant seemed keen on giving one of those insane speeches of his.

“Maybe I should just slit your throat. I wonder how she’d react. Do you think her head might come back to life? Maybe it would, just to shed a tear for you. Maybe I should do that instead of orchestrating gang wars, what do you say?!”

“You’re sick, Izaya. You need help”

The blade that was plunged in his face was slowly dragged down an inch or two and he swallowed his scream, perfectly aware of the fact that Celty was waiting behind her room’s door for an excuse to come out and finish what she’d started. When the blade finally stopped moving, without however being withdrawn, he opened his mouth to speak again, struggling to keep his voice calm and even.

“Your hands are not as stable as they used to be, Izaya. Put the knife away before you do something you’ll regret”

“I don’t know what regret is, Shinra”, his nasty grin highlighting the meaning of his words and leaving no doubt as to whether he meant it or not. He dragged the blade all the way down the side of the doctor’s face, enjoying the way blood gashed out from the fresh wound and then flicked it shut and dropped it in his pocket. Shinra had squeezed his eyes shut, blood draining from his face by the pain and the struggle to keep quiet, and Izaya grabbed him by the hair and brought his mouth to the doctor’s ear to whisper his next words. “Make sure I never see your face again, or I won’t be satisfied with a few cuts”.

He was gone by the time Shinra’s eyes fluttered open and the doctor slid down the wall, dropping his weight on his right side to relieve the pain and bringing a hand up to press against the gash on the side of his face. Celty came out of her room hesitantly, but the moment she saw the doctor’s bloody face she ran to him and pulled his hand away to assess the damage.

“It’s nothing. Just help me to the back room and I’ll take care of it myself”

She pulled her PDA out and typed with trembling fingers.

[But you’re bleeding!]

“I’m fine, really. It’s just superficial cuts”

[Stop protecting him!]

“I’m not protecting him, I’m fine!”

[He came into your house and attacked you!]

[He’s ruined Shizuo’s life!]

[He’s a cold-blooded psychopath who enjoys torturing everyone around him]

[and you bring him in our house!]

[You sleep in the same room with him!]

[You protect him when he’s stabbed you!]

“Please, just listen to me”, but she wasn’t listening any more, her fingers were flying over her PDA’s keyboard and there was no stopping her.

[You keep secrets from me!]

[Secrets you share with him!]

[You lie to me!]

[You chose him over me!]

“I… what are you talking about?! I never chose anyone over you! Celty!”

She kept typing her furious messages, turning the screen towards him for no more than a few seconds, hardly giving him the time to read what she was trying to tell him. And then, before he had a chance to explain himself, she turned around and dashed out, slamming the door behind her and leaving him alone on the living room floor, hopelessly staring at the shut door. How had it all fallen to pieces, he simply couldn’t tell.


	33. Clap for defeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya could feel his lips stretching in an impossibly wide grin, which wasn’t even voluntary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the really late update, things have been changing a lot in my life lately, but I'm certainly not abandoning this.
> 
> If you haven't read Among The Ruins yet, you might want to do so now, before reading the new chapter. It's a cross-fic PendulumDeath and I did, between MC and Blind Fury. There is some reference to it in this chapter and there will be more in future chapters, so you might want to check it out! 
> 
> Enjoy :)

Izaya stood still in front of the rundown building with his hands in his pockets. He was clutching his switchblade in his right palm, squeezing it absentmindedly as the raindrops trailed down his face, his eyes glued to the window of the room that had witnessed his downfall. The rain had been pouring all day, leaving the streets empty, stealing away his only pastime in the last week: watching people as they went about their everyday lives, safe behind the large window walls of his office. Namie had taken every opportunity to remind him of the fact that she had single-handedly dealt with every new case for the past few months, but Izaya had fallen deep into the abyss of indifference and her words just fell on the wall that he had once again raised around him.

He had half-expected to hear from Shinra again soon after their last meeting, feeling confident that the doctor was so tightly wrapped around Izaya’s finger, that he would gladly jump chest-first on the informant’s knife if that was what his friend desired. But maybe that was wishful thinking after all. Not that he wanted to hear from him; if anything, Shinra deserved to get his throat slit for betraying the only person he had ever showed any interest in. But there was still a sting in his heart every time he thought about him and about everything that had happened between them; he had been led to believe that someone actually cared about him, and now that it had all come crashing down, that hollow feeling in his stomach was threatening to swallow him whole.

His coat was heavy on his shoulders, drenched from the rain, and Izaya could feel slight tremors going up and down his spine. Shinra would certainly scold him for staying out in the rain like this, if he could see him right now; if it wasn’t true concern that fuelled the worry in him every time Izaya was feeling poorly, or simply doing something stupid, then what on Earth was it? He craned his head back and, with his eyes shut, he savored the invigorating sensation of raindrops landing on his face. He hadn’t truly meant to hurt Shinra; causing him pain was not his goal. All he’d wanted was to prove to him that there were things he would never understand, facets in Izaya’s personality that he couldn’t even grasp. But at the same time he couldn’t really deny that he had enjoyed the pain he’d caused.

His eyes flew open in determination and he gazed up at the window of his nemesis’ bedroom. He could no longer call Shizuo his enemy, but there was no doubt as to whether the beast was his nemesis; he was the vengeful deity that had assumed the responsibility of punishing Izaya for the blasphemy of calling himself a god. This whole situation felt way too familiar for his liking, but a dream wasn’t going to defeat him; sleep never agreed with him much, but this last week had been as ruthless as the days before that horrid night. The only time he had managed to sleep, he had been plagued by the image of a beast he couldn’t even claim to recognize. The idea of a parallel universe where Shizuo had violently brutalized him out of nothing but hatred seemed absurd, and yet the fact that he had dreamt about it meant that some part of his consciousness probably deemed it possible. The dream had left him feeling numb for days and it was only when he heard Kasuka’s voice on the television earlier that evening that he was finally drawn out of his stupor.

Kasuka Heiwajima, Japan’s most beloved public figure, had actually managed to defeat him - not before he had suffered a great deal for his brother’s disrespect, but that short triumph left nothing but a bitter taste in Izaya’s mouth. The little imposter hadn’t been able to avoid the public outcry that the rumors about his brother and the alleged bribery of police officers and judges had triggered, and in a matter of weeks he had turned from Japan’s most beloved to Japan’s most criticized. He had refused to appear on television shows to defend himself, and soon his contracts had started getting cancelled one after the other; studios couldn’t afford to waste money on a face the world was daily being told they should scorn. Izaya had enjoyed the downfall of that seemingly emotionless freak, and all he regretted was not being able to see Shizuo’s face as he watched the hard work of his most beloved person go to waste. He had made a promise to himself, to visit the beast at the first opportunity, just to boast and taunt him about the inevitable demise of dear Kasuka’s career, but up until that evening he hadn’t felt ready to leave the house. He was waiting for something; waiting for Shinra to come begging for forgiveness most probably, because after all it was the doctor who had so unfairly betrayed him for no good reason. But the phone call he expected never came, so instead he just spent every evening swiveling absentmindedly in his chair, staring outside the large window behind his desk, letting Namie’s typing soothe the voice in his head that would never stop pestering him about all that had to be done.

It was already dark when Namie turned off her computer and gathered her things to leave that evening. Izaya had his back to her, staring at the empty streets below, but not really seeing anything.

“Stay away from my desk, please. It’s bad enough that I have to do all the work on my own as you’re too busy sulking over god knows what, I don’t want to have to reorganize everything tomorrow morning”. He had made the terrible mistake of rummaging through the files on her desk the previous night, looking for a report that seemed to have disappeared in thin air, and she was certainly not going to let him forget. Izaya turned to look at her over his shoulder, not feeling up for the silly bickering. His eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar face on the TV (which was on, as always, but with the volume off) and he turned fully to its direction, suddenly reenergized by a kind of curiosity he had almost forgotten he was capable of.

“Turn the volume on”

He didn’t even bother with fake politeness; his eyes were glued to the screen and he couldn’t care less if the building was to come crashing down around him. Namie’s eyes followed his gaze and she snorted disapprovingly.

“Really now? I didn’t know you were a fan”. She turned the volume on anyhow, and brought the remote control to her employer with a savage smirk on her face. “Enjoy your evening, but don’t fantasize too hard about him; I hear he’s taken!”

She turned on her heels and left the apartment without a goodbye, just swaying her hips defiantly, perfectly aware of the fact that Izaya was burning holes in her back, but not even imagining the reason why. Once she was gone, Izaya’s attention returned to the TV screen, his eyes devouring the image of a casually dressed Yuhei Hanejima, looking more reserved and weirdly sexy than ever before. He snorted at himself, deeply annoyed at the fact that he considered the little freak handsome, and moved to the couch to take a seat and listen to the conversation his rival was having with the hostess of the show. It seemed like his manager had finally convinced him to go to one of these silly shows and state his case, and he was playing the part very well. The conversation was revolving around Yuhei’s childhood and his relationship with his brother back then. Izaya could tell by the man’s words alone that he was putting a lot of effort in coming up with the right answers; honest enough to persuade the audience, touching enough to save his career, and yet at the same time as inoffensive towards his brother as possible. It was not an easy task. The face on the screen was reserved but anything but emotionless; Kasuka’s handsome features were painted with a variety of colors as he described his fear and agony when he was first faced with his brother’s inhuman strength and had to call an ambulance for a writhing Shizuo. What was truly fascinating though, was that he was in fact not acting. Izaya lost himself in the performance which was amazingly enough not a performance, and he could hardly follow the description of events he was anyway familiar with. All he could focus on were Kasuka’s eyes; more alive and honest than ever. His hands were resting on his knees, fingers intertwined tightly, to the point that his knuckles seemed to be turning white, and his body was tense, even though he was trying hard to pretend that he was comfortable with the whole situation. Izaya had to admire the strength and the courage of that boy, even if he disliked him more than he’d ever disliked his monstrous brother. The conversation went on like that for a while, with the hostess asking questions about the Heiwajima family and Yuhei’s past, and then she suddenly crossed her legs and shot an accusative look in the direction of the camera behind the young film star sitting opposite her. _“Is it true that you bribed the authorities to bail your brother out of jail?”_ Kasuka gave the camera behind the hostess an equally intense look, and Izaya leaned forward, his whole body pulsing with suspense. If he denied it, no one would believe him. If he admitted it, he would be ruined forever.

Kasuka was smart. He was an annoying brat who smothered Shizuo with his abnormal brotherly love and concern (abnormal for Izaya’s standards, anyway), but not even the informant would dare imply that he was not smart. He was very smart, especially when it came to manipulating the public. He stared right in the camera lens opposite him for a few intense moments, and then lowered his head to stare at his hands instead. When he spoke up, his face still turned to the floor, his voice was broken and quiet. _“I love my brother very much. He may not be perfect, but I know he is a good man, who never meant to harm anyone”_. Izaya could feel his lips stretching in an impossibly wide grin, which wasn’t even voluntary. He wanted that poor excuse of a human to be ruined forever, he wanted him to be humiliated and rejected on live television, he wanted Shizuo to see his little brother failing miserably, so that maybe he would stop thinking so highly of him, maybe he would finally find some space for someone else in his heart. But he simply couldn’t help it, this show the brunette was putting up was too good and he knew instinctively that by the end of it Izaya would have probably been defeated, but he still couldn’t help watching the screen hungrily, silently admiring his opponent. Kasuka’s face was finally revealed to the camera again, and there was no mistaking the wetness under his amber eyes. The camera actually closed in on that handsome face as he went on. _“I would do anything to help him”_. There was a moment of tense silence, nothing but Kasuka’s tear-filled eyes on the screen. _“I owe the people of Japan an apology. He is my family and I couldn’t abandon him. This is not to say that my brother is more important than the man he killed. He will go through trial and he will pay for his mistakes. But I will stand by his side through it all”_. He looked away after this little monologue, drying his eyes with a subtle and oh-so-elegant flick of his wrists, and the hostess reappeared on screen with an understanding expression on her face. There was no more questioning after that, just a heartfelt reassurance from the wide-eyed woman that the people of Japan could understand his dilemma and a promise that the public would be there for him. Kasuka bowed his head respectfully and thanked the hostess and the audience with a fake smile – Izaya had no doubt that it was disgust he could see under that thankful mask. It was absurd, but laughter poured from Izaya’s lips loud and complacent. He even brought his hands together and clapped at the young man on the screen, feeling more than ever the need to crush that lovable creature to the ground like an insect. Kasuka Heiwajima was indeed clever. He had ruined Izaya’s plan with such ease and he hadn’t even had to lie; it was all calculated, no doubt, but he had still spoken the truth, and those tears were not the same as the ones he’d shed in his films. No, they were real, and Izaya envied him for that.

The rain had died down and the cold night breeze made his teeth chatter. The light was off in Shizuo’s bedroom, but that probably just meant that the blond was in the living room instead. Izaya ran a cold hand through his dripping hair, just to brush the wet strands off his face, and took a deep breath in an attempt to control his rising heart beat. It made no sense that he should feel so self-conscious at a time like this, and yet his feet felt like they were set in stone. He shrugged, trying to regain self-control, and took the first step towards the building in front of him. There was an image he couldn’t get rid of, it took over his mind as he walked inside the lobby of the miserable block of flats; a Shizuo Heiwajima he didn’t even know staring back at him in bewilderment at the doorstep to his tiny apartment. He could see those eyes, filled with suspicion and rage, scrutinizing him and the small elevator suddenly felt too small. He was glad to step out of it and into the dimly lit hallway of the floor where Shizuo lived. He walked up to the beast’s door, every step more uncertain than the previous one, and stood there still for a moment, his hand tightly squeezing the switchblade in his pocket. _Dreams can’t hurt me_ , he reminded himself as he raised a shaky fist to knock on the door. It was going to be just fine. He knocked, once, and held his breath as he listened to heavy footsteps approaching the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the new chapter! This was meant to be just the first part of a rather long chapter, but I thought I'd just post this, since it's ready, and then post the second part as another chapter whenever I finish it. Thank you for reading!


	34. Forward and reverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will not be defeated by Kasuka Heiwajima. Go ahead, make your mindless teenage audience love you once again; I will claim a much better prize.

It had been a quiet evening. It had been a quiet _day_ , a quiet _week_ …it felt like everything in his life had come to a halt after that accursed day... _and it had started off so well._ Shizuo shook his head in a futile attempt to block the image of blood and mangled flesh, but lately it was always there. The first few days after his brother had bailed him out had been a haze – he could barely remember the few visitors he’d had; Tom who had offered his help without demanding any kind of explanation, Celty who had just sat there, at the other edge of the couch, not bothering to take her PDA out, but rather just keeping him company as he lit one cigarette after another, and of course Shinra… He hadn’t expected to see the doctor again after that day, not for a long time, as it was more than obvious that he had accomplished his goal (namely hacking Shizuo to pieces - metaphorically of course, but Shizuo would have appreciated it more in the literal sense of the word), but then he wasn’t exactly surprised when Shinra called him a few nights later, less than an hour after Izaya, with his glistening eyes and his cold, ruthless knives, had disappeared leaving him alone in an alley a few feet away from his front door. He had known, as he stood there watching the white fur of his coat float down the road, that the doctor was in big trouble, but he didn’t really care much at the time. He didn’t even care much as he stood in the middle of the living room in the apartment Shinra and Celty shared, cozy and comfortable at most times, but a proper bloody mess that night, watching the doctor, wounded and smeared with his own blood all over, struggling to get to his feet.

 

“Are you going to help me already?”

 

He had been tempted to say no, to let the creep crawl all the way to the back room, where Shizuo knew he kept all his medical… _toys._ The only reason he decided to help in the end, was because he didn’t want Celty walking in on this – that was before Shinra had told him the whole story, before he had realized that, without meaning to, he had hurt yet another person he cared about. After helping him to the back room and doing his best to swipe the blood from the living room floor – he had made an even worse mess, really, but at least he’d tried – Shizuo had made a good effort to explain to Shinra why on Earth he had told Izaya about their meeting and everything they’d discussed. His _good effort_ consisted of a number of sighs and hems, but that was pretty much all there was to say. He hadn’t, he really hadn’t said anything about them meeting, or about the things they’d discussed. It had all come down to one stupid sentence really. That’s all it ever took with Izaya: one sentence, one word and the damned flea could read every thought in Shizuo’s dense brain. Because it had to be dense, no? He kept fucking it all up and he just wouldn’t learn. Shinra hadn’t been very satisfied with that I-didn’t-do-nothin’ look, but instead of asking any more questions he had buried his face in his palms, breathing deep and hard. And just as Shizuo was about to open his mouth and try to come up with something better than _“um”_ this time, just anything to take out the anger he had no doubt was pulsing through the doctor’s veins, targeting both the blond and that idiot of a human being – no, not human, just a bloody pest, really, and he was foolish enough to ache for him - he heard Shinra’s voice, steady and quiet.

 

“Who’s going to look after him now?” And in the end, Shizuo hadn’t been able to come up with anything smarter than “ _huh?”_ with just a touch of indignation, to better match the current circumstances. “He’s not well, he shouldn’t be alone”. The doctor’s grey eyes looked up to study him for a moment, as if they were actually considering the possibility of sending the wolf after the sheep that had gone astray, but looked away resignedly without making any such suggestions.

 

“The bastard attacked you in your home, and you’re worried about his well being?”

 

The words didn’t sit well with him, but somehow it still made sense to talk about Izaya that way, even if he craved for the bastard every breathing moment.

 

“He’s a mess, Shizuo!” his expression vehement, even though Shizuo was certain he was not the one who should be at the receiving end of that vehemence. “He thinks everyone’s out to get him, he -” Whatever he was about to say was cut short by a sigh. “How could you be so stupid? Why would you ever tell him?”

 

Shinra had stitched up the gash in his leg by that point and was shuffling through a drawer for something – a hand mirror, it turned out. He made Shizuo hold it up for him, so he could clean and stitch up the wound in his face as well.

 

“I didn’t mean to. It kinda…slipped off my tongue.”

 

That earned him a glare, but Shizuo remained unfazed by it, holding the mirror up and watching Shinra’s skilled hands take care of that crooked red going down the side of his face. Izaya must have been pretty mad to hurt an unarmed _friend_ like that.

 

“What’s wrong with him?” If it hadn’t been for the doctor’s sadistic smirk as he prepared to give him an answer he’d no doubt _not_ like, Shizuo could have sworn he’d only ever asked the question in his mind. He had never truly planned to say it out loud. “I don’t mean…you know, not _now_! I mean, what’s _wrong_ with him?”

 

Inhaling deeply, Shinra resumed his work looking into the hand mirror in front of him. “I don’t know. He’s always been paranoid – borderline, at least. A bit of a bipolar perhaps”. He finished the stitches and sighed irritably. “Or maybe just straight mad, how am I supposed to know?”

 

Celty hadn’t shown up that night, not while Shizuo was in their apartment. And when she had finally paid Shizuo a visit in his own apartment, she hadn’t bothered him with questions. After all, she didn’t even know that her friend was somehow involved in this story. Tom hadn’t been as quiet. He had refrained from asking any questions that might enrage the blonde, but he had inevitably _had_ to speak; to explain all the reasons why it was better for Shizuo to stay home for a while, to lay low even, just keep away from any trouble, at least until the trial. Of course the debt collecting agency didn’t want someone who was being trialed for murder roaming the streets of Ikebukuro and beating up (or even worse) people in their name. Shizuo had smiled all the same; Tom had always been too generous to him and he really had no hard feelings. He didn’t expect anyone to stand by his side through this – they really shouldn’t.

 

Kasuka, however, wouldn’t have any of it. He was calling Shizuo on an everyday basis, even if he only had two minutes to spare, just a quick _“hello”_ and _“how are you holding up”_ before the line went dead with the unspoken promise of another call, before it had even been 24 hours. He had even found the time to visit him one more time since that night when he had bailed him out of jail - when he had advised him to apologize to Izaya. He hadn’t stayed long, but had quickly explained to him that he had everything under control as far as the trial was concerned; he had hired the best lawyer in the whole of Japan and they would all go through their options together before deciding the line of defence for the trial. Shizuo didn’t care much about the line of defence – he didn’t care to defend himself, and besides there was nothing to defend really. Blood and mangled flesh was all he could see whenever he’d close his eyes – blood, mangled flesh, and Izaya’s broken mantra of “ _please_ ” were his everyday companions.

 

He had actually hurt someone worse than he had hurt Izaya. No, he hadn’t just hurt, he had _killed_ someone. Shizuo Heiwajima, the man who claimed to hate violence, had taken a life with his bare hands. He was a hypocrite. He was the worst kind of man there was in this world. He was certain if he was given a second chance, he’d do it all over again. That boy had threatened to hurt Izaya, and even though the flea didn’t need Shizuo, of all people, to protect him – didn’t need protection at all! – there was still something, some voice in the back of his head, or some gut feeling maybe, deep in his stomach, that if he had allowed that thug to walk away unharmed and he and his buddies had somehow succeeded in hurting the one person who had ever dared get close to him, Shizuo wouldn’t be satisfied with the blood of just one man. He would have torn the whole of Ikebukuro down with his own two hands, he would have shred to pieces every living creature that came his way, and by the end of it all he would still feel that all-consuming rage blazing in his chest. One dead boy, _any_ dead boy, was better than a hurt Izaya. And that made Shizuo Heiwajima the worst hypocrite in the whole of Japan.

 

With no work to force him out of the house, Shizuo had spent most of his time wandering aimlessly from one room to the other or watching his brother’s career fall apart on television. Kasuka had warned him about this, Kasuka had, knowing his brother too well, asked him to not pay attention to the things the reporters were saying about him, about the until yesterday beloved Yuhei Hanejima, but Shizuo had never been in control of his rage. Why would this be any different? He had wrecked the TV set before the reporter in one of those entertainment programs had even had the time to announce the cancellation of most of the film star’s contracts for the next season. He had tried asking that impassive voice at the other end of daily short calls what his plan was, but he had never received a reply. Kasuka was smart, he could play anyone if he wanted to, but Shizuo knew that his brother was, at least in that respect, very much like the flea; he didn’t appreciate being forced to play parts he had no interest in. He would not dance to the rhythm Izaya had set for him, he’d probably prefer to let everything go to ruin and Shizuo simply couldn’t allow that. But then again, there was nothing he could do. Even if he thought there was any chance of talking sense to Izaya, of persuading him to show some mercy – not to him, but at least to the people who had nothing to do with this story and had been unjustly dragged into it one way or another – he still wouldn’t have dared go find the man by his own initiative. He had no right to seek him out. In the end he’d had to admit that he was truly powerless in this situation, and it almost surprised him how easy it had been for Izaya to strip him bare of control, he had even caught himself wondering why the flea had never been successful in crashing him before – it was apparently a very easy task. He had dismissed the thought that maybe he had never truly wanted it; for all he knew, Izaya still dreamt about crashing him to the ground like a bug, now more than ever. Maybe making the beast fall for him first and then crashing him was the real plan, and Shizuo shuddered at the thought of how easy it had been for Izaya to achieve it.

 

That evening had been the same as all the previous ones. If anything had changed, that would have to be the reporters swarming outside his building; when he went out for some groceries for his dinner, the street outside the building was quiet, there were no news crews anywhere around, just the everyday traffic. He hadn’t thought much into it, he was just glad they were finally gone, probably making some other poor bastard’s life miserable. He did his shopping, got home and started cooking. With the TV gone he had nothing to kill his time with in the apartment, and chain smoking could only entertain him that much. Cooking was never his thing, but with all the free time he had lately, he’d cultivated a mild interest in it. Nothing fancy, but let’s just say he’d never really bothered cook a proper meal for himself before.

 

He was in the process of boiling rice when he heard the knock on the door and his heart started racing before he’d even registered the sound of that _steady, firm knock…_ He chuckled at himself, tossing the dishtowel over his shoulder and turning the burner down, leaving the pot on so the rice could boil slowly, before going to answer the door. It couldn’t be Izaya, he was foolish to get so worked up about a knock on the door. No, it was probably some neighbour who had decided this was a good time to complain about broken handles and cracked walls…or maybe Shinra…or his brother…maybe even Celty, going home from one of those borderline legal jobs of hers… He was still going through the people who might have decided to pay him a visit that late in the evening, fruitlessly trying to get his heart rate back to normal, when he flung the door open. His jaw went slack and his eyes widened in disbelief and he was certain he looked like a proper idiot standing there in his baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt worn out to the point of now being large enough to fit two people his size, a dishtowel hanging over his right shoulder and his mouth open wide like he had just seen a ghost, but he was simply too stunned to say or do anything.

 

“Are we going to stand here all night?”

 

Izaya managed to keep silent for perhaps a whole minute. His heart was also racing, but for very different reasons. The man standing opposite him seemed like the Shizuo he knew; _dumb, trusting, affection-thirsty Shizuo, the beast with the soft heart, a contradiction and a constant thorn in my side…the man I’ve been thinking and dreaming about, the man I’ve been craving for._ There was no mistrust in those honey-brown eyes, no hint of aggravation at seeing him, and just as he flexed his fingers in his pocket, trying to shake off the numbness that had crept all the way up to his shoulder – that’s how hard he was gripping his knife – Izaya realized that he had been holding his breath since his knuckles had made contact with the door. He breathed in, trying his best to hide the fact that his lungs where desperate for the air, and spoke his words evenly, like he was reading from a book. This was not the beast he had dreamt about, this was _his_ Shizuo, the man he had desperately wanted to see again since that brief meeting in the alleyway not far from where they were now standing, the man who had desperately accepted him in his world, clearly hoping that Izaya was more than what he’d let out, the man who had broken him to pieces with such ease Izaya felt like he could stab him to death and then bring him back to life just to do it again and again until he could stop feeling like such a failure. There was nothing to fear. And yet standing at the doorstep of that apartment still felt wrong. It was like his legs wanted to turn and leave the place running, but his mind insisted on playing a part he was not cut out for. _I will not be defeated by Kasuka Heiwajima. Go ahead, make your mindless teenage audience love you once again; I will claim a much better prize._

 

Shizuo had to blink a couple of times to clear his mind. Izaya was standing at his doorstep; it wasn’t the first time he’d been met with this sight, so it really shouldn’t be all that surprising. And yet it was. And the bastard looked and sounded so confident, you would have thought he had just returned to his home to find Shizuo cooking in his kitchen.

 

“Umm…sorry I…didn’t expect you.”

 

If keeping silent had been a challenge before, this time Izaya just found himself speechless. Being attacked by a beast who claimed to still hate him with all his might was one thing, being so bluntly turned down by the man who was supposed to be as desperate for him as Izaya was for the said man was another. His fingers clenched around his knife in his pocket but he forced a smirk on his face – he had no doubt it faltered badly enough for even an idiot like Shizuo to notice, but damn him if he was going to allow himself to look defeated.

 

“Well in that case, I am sorry for bothering you!”

 

He turned on his heels, his stance haughty enough to cause laughter given how battered he was actually feeling, and started to head back to the elevator, but before he had even taken a proper step he was pulled back by a strong grip on his arm. Shizuo looked guilty as hell as he let go to raise his arms as if he was being arrested and he was fast to apologize – for having the audacity to touch him, Izaya noted with a touch of amusement.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m…happy…that you’re here”, his eyes were doing a little dance, trailing up and down Izaya’s buttoned up coat, not daring to make eye contact for longer than a few seconds, “I was just surprised, that’s all”. He sighed and took a step aside, suddenly taking great interest in Izaya’s taste in shoes – he’d look anywhere but in those flaming eyes, especially while he was asking the man to enter the apartment he probably wanted to set to flames. “Come inside” and then a thought crossed his mind, Izaya could tell by the way he furrowed his brow and looked up, just for a fraction of a second, with the look of a kid who has just broken his mom’s favourite vase. “I mean, if you want to…That’s why you came, right? It’s ok if you don’t want to come in, we can stand here, that’s fine -”

 

It was fun watching him torture himself like that, but Izaya was suddenly feeling generous – perhaps it was that look on the beast’s face, the look that made him look more human than any human Izaya had ever claimed to love – so he walked past him and into the apartment with a roll of his eyes. He didn’t dare take his shoes off, the thought alone made him feel vulnerable, but instead walked to the centre of the living room, his eyes searching the wall opposite him for a mark he knew had to be there if this was really _his_ Shizuo. Relief washed over him when he finally spotted that tiny black mark and he took a few more steps towards it, to make sure that his mind wasn’t just making the image up. The beast must have realized what Izaya was looking so intently at, because he tensed up somewhere in the informant’s peripheral vision and he even took a step towards him, but regretted it immediately backing away.

 

“I…umm…I should have cleaned that, I…” Izaya didn’t even seem to acknowledge his presence and Shizuo suddenly felt like there was a surplus of air in his lungs and blew it out loudly through his nose. _Dammit, such a fucking idiot._ He hadn’t even noticed it, he didn’t need that tiny mark on the wall to remember what had happened that night and he had hardly thought about the traces of all that horror spread out around the house. The mattress was still stained with blood, his half-hearted attempts at cleaning it had failed miserably and in the end he had just settled for turning it upside down so that he wouldn’t have to see the dark stains every time he changed his sheets. Izaya would certainly not be satisfied with that kind of a solution. The raven head bobbed a little, almost as if he was nodding at himself, and then it slowly turned from side to side, taking a few moments to study the room around him. He didn’t bother turn to face Shizuo, but chose to walk around the living room, his eyes hungrily tracing every detail in it. Of course, nothing had changed. If he could travel forward in time and visit this apartment in 40 years from now, he felt certain it would still look exactly the same. Perhaps even the man living in here would look exactly the same – it was hard to think of an ageing Shizuo, a beast like him could never grow weak and helpless. For every step he took in the room, the blond would subconsciously take one towards the opposite direction, as if to keep the distance between them. _We could almost be dancing the tango, Shizu-chan!_ He was standing opposite where the TV set should have been when he finally decided to speak – Shizuo was right opposite him, taking up the space where the TV stood last time he was in this room.

 

“It’s been a while, right? So, how have you been, Shizu-chan?”

 

Shizuo knew that he was being made fun of – he didn’t even have to decode that mocking tone, the glimmer in Izaya’s eyes told him that much. He was not going to play the game though, he had screwed up bad enough, it was time they started acting like grown ups and it was more than obvious that he’d have to take the first step, seeing as Izaya was happy to act like a brat even after everything that had gone down between them.

 

“I never wanted things to get to this, you know”. Izaya chuckled, but by the way he looked away Shizuo knew that he was not comfortable with the conversation, neither was he capable of brushing it off, like he couldn’t care less about what there was to say. “I didn’t realize – that’s a half-assed excuse, isn’t it?” He was still staring at the outline of Izaya’s pointy nose, the few raven strands falling at the side of his face and that tiny piece of cracked skin at the corner of his lips… “But I really didn’t. I didn’t know, not until Shinra told me - I mean you were always pushing me, always challenging me to hurt you, and I _have_ hurt you, in so many fucking ways, how the fuck was I supposed to know that you could break so easily?”

 

On second thought, he would have preferred it if Izaya had never turned to look at him. He hadn’t seen that look in a long long time now, that truly malicious look, the one that could make any sane person’s blood freeze with its ferocity. And he couldn’t say he’d missed it.

 

“ _Easily?_ It’s a shame Shizu-chan can’t really feel pain, I would love to show you just how _easy_ that night was”

 

“That’s not…” If he could bite his tongue and choke on his own blood, he would have done it right there. But he had no doubt Izaya would keep him alive just to torture him some more, so there was no point trying. “I didn’t mean it like that”. It was a relief to watch that nasty look disappear from Izaya’s eyes, even if it was weariness that it was replaced by. Shizuo sighed, suddenly overcome by the need to apologize, again and again until his apology had been either accepted or just deemed unnecessary – and he couldn’t care less about how selfish a wish that was. “I’m-”

 

“ **Don’t.** ”

 

For a brief moment Izaya looked like he was going to be sick. His body was shaking with tension and his face paled, and Shizuo thought he could hear his voice, broken yet vicious, telling him that he wanted him to be proud of himself, to brag about what he had done. Maybe that apology weighed heavier on Izaya’s chest than it did on his own. Before he had the time to wonder why that was, he was faced with a mask yet again, with one of those wicked smirks Izaya seemed to hide in his sleeve for moments like this one. If it hadn’t been for that knot in his stomach, he might have even believed that that brief moment of weakness had been nothing but a figment of his imagination.

 

“What happened to your TV?”

 

“It…broke”. It wasn’t hard for a man who made a living out of reading people to see through the lie – or maybe half-truth – of that word, especially since Shizuo had sounded as uncertain as he would have been had someone asked him to explain the butterfly effect.

 

“Is that code for ‘I broke it into smithereens’?”

 

There was softness in Izaya’s smirk as he asked that question, almost a hint of affection, the way people usually talk about the flaws of their loved ones, as if they were actually just amusing traits and not flaws, and Shizuo felt safe enough to chuckle and nod sheepishly.

 

“I didn’t like the program that was on.”

 

“It had nothing to do with your brother’s public lynching, I presume?” That thing, about people and their loved ones, Shizuo took it back. Nope, Izaya was still the manipulative snake, the blood-sucking pest, the bane of his existence – “It’s a shame, really; you would have enjoyed his performance tonight”. Shizuo was so busy thinking of all the reasons why he should have never invited this toxic human waste inside his home in the first place, that he almost didn’t hear the words coming out of that poisonous mouth. He had to take a moment to think about what the flea had just said and the panic that innocent statement gave rise to mixed with his bewilderment to form an expression on his face that made Izaya cackle like an idiot. _Yeap, idiot first of all. Nasty, treacherous, murderous, sexy idiot._ “Nothing sinister, don’t worry! Quite the opposite, I’m afraid; he managed to save his career despite all the hard work I put into tearing it apart”. There was nothing gentle about Izaya’s grin, but Shizuo felt confident he could trust those words; it’s not like the informant would be happy for Kasuka outwitting him in his own game. “He’s very good, I must say. He even managed to shed a few tears, for show. Apparently, he’s Japan’s favourite once again; the prodigal son or something.”

 

Whoever that prodigal son – of whom? – was, Shizuo was just happy to hear that his brother had turned the tables and was safe and sound. “He is good at what he does!” He couldn’t hide the relief and joy in his voice, and he was probably grinning like an idiot, which would explain Izaya’s disdain and the way he scrunched his nose at the following statement “Japan’s best young actor; it’s not a coincidence!”

 

If he had been trying to ruin Izaya’s mood, he had just succeeded it. The raven looked him straight in the eyes, expression grim and dark, and remained silent for long enough to cause Shizuo to worry. “He was not acting.”

 

Whatever had happened in that apartment, whatever horror was still hiding in the corners, waiting for the right opportunity to come to light and throw them at each other’s neck again, they had both forgotten about it in that moment. The weariness was still there in the raven’s posture, but the way they stared into each other’s eyes any stranger watching them would have guessed that there was nothing but want in that room. Izaya looked away after a moment, shrugging his shoulders and flexing his fingers in his pockets – he was starting to freeze in those rain soaked clothes. Shizuo’s eyes remained glued on the other’s figure for a few more moments, before turning to stare at the floor instead, his right hand guiltily rubbing the back of his neck, as if he had broken a rule by daring stare into those eyes again.

 

“He really wasn’t acting, you know. I might have been willing to forgive him if it was all just an act, but…” Shizuo couldn’t see his face, Izaya had turned towards the hallway that led to the bedroom and was talking to the wall rather than him, but he could tell by his voice that he was not teasing or taunting him – he was serious, “but he really did shed those tears. And I doubt he shed them for his career… You are a lucky man, Shizu-chan.”

 

Maybe he shouldn’t take the bait, but Shizuo couldn’t help laughing at that and maybe it was just his imagination, but the reddish irises that turned to look at him were wide with surprise. “If he’s good enough to fool you, then he definitely deserves the title of the best among his generation!” Pride washed over him; his little brother was smart enough to turn Izaya’s game in his favour. Of course Kasuka was smart, and talented and very perceptive for that matter. Shizuo often wondered how come they were so different – it was as if his younger brother had taken all the good traits, while Shizuo himself was nothing but a faulty prototype, an experiment gone wrong. Not that he had ever been jealous; no, he was happy to live his life looking up to little Kasuka, even if it should have been the other way around – it’s big brothers who are supposed to set an example, no? After all, his brother deserved it all, he was a good person, a decent man, while Shizuo was simply a monster. Izaya on the other hand was…well, he was skilled and smart and perceptive like Kasuka, but on top of all that he was also a monster. _And I want to hate you, but I can’t anymore._

 

“You love him so much and yet you still don’t know him!” There was honest fascination in that statement, but it was clearly the vicious kind, if the contemptuous smirk on Izaya’s face was any indication. “I guess even monsters like you have human traits. You see, humans do that aaa~ll the time; they claim to love someone when really all they love is the projection of their imagination. You have to admire them for their resilience.”

 

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about -” He would have gone on to declare his unconditional love for his brother and not some projections of his imagination, had he not smelled something burning. _Shit!_ He stomped to the kitchen, now more irritated by Izaya’s bullshit than he was before he realized he had burnt his food thanks to that bigmouthed asshole, cursing and gritting his teeth all the way. He took the pot off the burner and stared at what was supposed to be his dinner. Some of the rice could be salvaged, but the pot was definitely screwed.

 

“Don’t you have a rice steamer?” Apparently Izaya had deemed it safe to follow him into the kitchen and was now leaning against the door frame.

 

“Why would I have a fucking rice steamer?” He could feel his brow twitching and that was not a good sign. “And how do you even know what a rice steamer is? I bet you haven’t once cooked for yourself, or anyone else for that matter!”

 

Izaya shrugged behind him. “I have better things to do with my time – cooking is so…unimaginative, so… _common._ ”

 

There was a layer of charcoaled rice at the bottom of the pot; there was no saving it. Shizuo had scooped the rice that hadn’t burnt into a bowl and was now staring at the black bottom of the pot, wondering if that was what Izaya’s heart looked like. He tossed it in the trash with a sigh and turned to look at the skinny figure standing at the door. “Well it’s no wonder you look like a fucking skeleton”. He walked past that breathing skeleton, not missing the way Izaya tensed as he closed the distance between them, and into the living room, heading for his bedroom. “How about I get you some dry clothes to change into before you freeze to death and you promise to keep you r fucking mouth shut, if only for a little while, huh?”

 

Izaya looked as complacent as ever as he made a gesture with his hand across his lips to show him that his lips were sealed. Shizuo’s clothes weren’t going to fit him, but the blonde made an effort anyway, rummaging through his closet for something… _nice_ ; something that was not worn out to the point of having changed colour or having grown so thin it could probably rip at any time. It wasn’t an easy task, but in the end he settled for a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt – the pants were very old, but still in good condition and Shizuo could hardly remember ever wearing the sweatshirt, it was too warm for him, anyway. Izaya was waiting for him patiently in the living room, hands behind his back, staring at the couch as if there was someone there.

 

“Does your brother buy you clothes as well?”

 

Shizuo stopped in his tracks – for if he’d taken another step he would have been tempted to punch that damned flea. “I can buy my own clothes, I’m not that incompetent.”

 

“Or poor” Izaya added with a purr and a mischievous smirk. He looked up to study the blonde who was standing across the room; this was definitely not the man from his dream, this one was…soft around the edges. _It looks like I have tamed my beast after all._ It was amusing to see how he could still pull the man’s strings, how he could play him with such ease – after all, that feral look in Shizuo’s eyes was what had drawn him to the beast in the first place. He’d hate for it to disappear.

 

Dumping the clothes on the couch, Shizuo headed for the kitchen with a growl “I’m going to get my dinner ready. You change your clothes and don’t fucking touch anything!”

 

 _Fucking bastard. Of course he comes into my house and taunts me, what the hell was I expecting?_ Shizuo started preparing the beef in the kitchen, making as much noise with the pots and pans and cutlery as was humanly – or even inhumanly – possible. He had been desperate for Izaya to give him another chance, and now that the louse was in his apartment, changing into his clothes in the next room, the urge to punch him in the face was stronger than his craving. That was always the problem with them; they simply couldn’t help themselves, they’d take every opportunity to grate on each other’s nerves, to humiliate and hurt – physically and emotionally – each other. The person Shizuo had been dreaming of all this time was the boy who had glued his face οn the bedroom window that summer night, the boy who had pleaded for the blond to be his. And ever since that night Shizuo had indeed been his, but that boy was nowhere to be seen. _I like you better when you’re drunk, flea._ He’d wanted to treat him nice in so many occasions before, but Izaya simply wouldn’t let him. And it seemed like this time was no different. _Dammit! You will not fuck this up again, Shizuo Heiwajima. He can taunt you as much as he likes, he can laugh in your face, he can take that toothpick of a knife of his and stab it in your heart and you will not dare lift a finger!_

 

Izaya didn’t move for a long time after Shizuo disappeared in the kitchen. He couldn’t see the blond from where he was standing, but he could hear him working on his dinner and it was just the same really, he could feel his presence and that was more than enough. He had expected to feel more on edge in this apartment, but he felt like he had already been through all this once, so there was really no reason to feel nervous; his dream had somehow prepared him for this meeting and he no longer felt any fear. The beast he had dreamt about had no place in this world; Shizuo had long stopped hating him, that was more than obvious. Whether he actually cared about Izaya or whether he was just fooling both of them out of his need for affection remained to be seen, but Izaya felt certain that he could live with whichever answer; as long as the beast was his, it didn’t really matter what the reasons for this were. He took his jacket off and hanged it on the coat hanger behind the door, toeing his shoes off and peeling off his dripping socks; his feet were frozen and he could hardly feel his toes. He started unbuckling his belt but a thought stopped him; he was standing right where they had stood that very first night, sharing their very first kiss, hands hungrily exploring their bodies, mouths connected in a desperate attempt to shut everything else out. The thought alone made him shudder.

 

One hand handling the pan where the beef was cooking, the other dialing a number he never thought he’d call out of his own free will and without bleeding to death, Shizuo cursed himself for feeling so helpless in this situation. When Shinra answered the call he was already whining about being interrupted when he was trying to have a conversation with Celty – a _conversation with a closed door, more likely_ – and Shizuo had to squeeze his eyes shut and grit his teeth to fight the urge to shout into the receiver.

 

“He’s here.”

 

The silence that followed those few words was not due to the fact that Shinra had not understood _who_ was there with the blond. There was no one else this “he” could refer to, really. No, the doctor was speechless simply because he was having a déjà vu moment. He had lived this before; he had been holding the phone to his ear like this before, feeling the dread creep up to him at the thought that Izaya had finally relapsed and gone back to the beast who had broken him to pieces. But he couldn’t have lived this before. He stopped his brain from diving into theories about parallel universes – they were more science than science fiction really, even if most people ignored that, but given the circumstances he was glad to believe that they were nothing but fiction as the thought of a number of parallel realities where Izaya had suffered like that didn’t appeal much to him – and swallowed hard before asking “Is he ok?”

 

“Ok? How the fuck am I supposed to know if he’s ok? He’s soaked to the bone, thin like a stick and pale like a ghost, but apart from that he’s obnoxious as ever!"

 

Fighting a smile back – Shizuo was sure to get mad if he could hear it in the doctor’s voice – Shinra did what he knew best. “Get him some dry clothes and make sure he’s warm. Make him eat something if you can – I doubt he’s had a proper meal since last time I saw him.”

 

“I am **not** his fucking babysitter!” He was that close to exploding and the fact that he couldn’t even shout to blow some steam out – Izaya could easily hear him form the other room – wasn’t helping much.

 

“You broke him, Shizuo. You wanted to take responsibility, well here’s your chance; fix him.”

 

*

 

He was terrified of physical contact, there was no point lying. And yet Izaya felt that this was the one obstacle he truly needed to surpass if he wanted things to go back to normal. It’s not like the two of them had ever truly shared anything else before; sex was the only thing that had ever brought them together. They could hardly stand each other’s voice and every word they exchanged only served to make them want to hurt each other, like they’d always done in the past. If he wanted his beast back, he’d have to make a small sacrifice. After all, he was Orihara Izaya; nothing scared him.

 

 *

 

“Just do me a favour, Shizuo; no matter what he says, don’t touch him.”

 

“Why would I – do you really think I haven’t learned anything?”

 

“That’s not what I mean. Even if he asks you to, don’t do anything, don’t even touch him, I mean that! He’s still a wreck emotionally and I’m sure he thinks he’s strong enough to fool himself but this kind of intimacy would only damage him further…”

 

The rant went on, but Shizuo was too busy turning tomato red to register what was being said to him. Since when did the damned doctor feel so comfortable discussing other people’s sex lives?

 

“Who are you talking to?”

 

Blood drained instantly from his face at the sound of that voice behind him and he was certain he had gone from tomato red to corpse white in a blink. Izaya wouldn’t be too happy if he knew that he was being talked about behind his back, especially since one of the people doing the talking was a friend he considered to have betrayed him. When Shizuo finally turned around to face him though, all these thoughts dissolved in thin air; Izaya was leaning against the door frame, barefoot, his belt undone and hanging loosely, his damp shirt clinging against his body, wet raven strands sticking against his forehead… _Sexy lethal fucking idiot._

 

“ _Are you listening to me Shizuo? I don’t care what game he pulls this time, do not touch him!_ ” The voice coming from his phone sounded like it was thousands of miles away, just an echo from outer space and Shizuo mumbled something along the lines of "uh huh… sure, yeah…whatever…” before ending the call.

 

“No one, just…wrong number…”

 

The bastard could tell that Shizuo had gone limp just by looking at him and he was no doubt enjoying the effect his appearance had; his eyes lit up and his smirk turned predatory. How had Shizuo come to think of that face as beautiful was a true mystery, even to himself. There was nothing gentle about it, Izaya’s face was all angles, like a rocky slope, it gave the impression of concealed malice, like there was something evil hiding away in the dark corners of his mouth, or the reaches of his pointy cheekbones. And yet Shizuo could only watch mesmerised. He licked his lips, to fight the dryness in his mouth, and took the pan off the burner in order to avoid completely ruining his dinner, before speaking up.

 

“Why haven’t you changed? You’ll freeze like that.”

 

“I thought Shizu-chan might want to undress me himself.”

 

He’d definitely not burn the beef, but there was a good chance he’d drop it to the floor if Izaya kept purring like that. Setting the pan on the counter to avoid any accidents, he turned to face the raven again, telling himself he was not going to give in to this game for he knew better and he was perfectly capable of controlling himself, _dammit!_ It turned out to be a bad idea, after all. Izaya had moved closer, silently, _the sneaky snake_ , and was standing right behind him, so that when Shizuo turned around they came face to face but for the few inches of height difference. A slender finger came up to trace the neckline of the t-shirt the blond was wearing and as his breath caught in his throat Izaya’s smirk widened with satisfaction. He had expected to be terrified, but seeing the beast so flustered had somehow made him feel like he was truly in control, even if he had no idea what he was doing.

 

It took all the strength he had, for Shizuo to take a step to the side, just to put some distance between them.

 

“This is not a good idea, Izaya.”

 

If he could have predicted the wounded look in those fiery irises, he would have never bothered with those words. The bony hand that was almost touching him a moment ago was still extended in front of Izaya’s pale face. There was a moment of silence, during which Shizuo did his best to avoid eye contact, especially since all he could see in the other’s eyes was disappointment. And then Izaya smiled, like he was the most carefree person in the world, like he hadn’t looked so hurt and defeated mere moments ago.

 

“You could have just said you’re not interested.”

 

For all the times Shinra had told him to not fall for Izaya’s games, Shizuo was still a hopeless victim. It was a trap, of course it was a trap, Izaya was playing him like a fool, leading him into thinking that he was truly hurt when he was probably just laughing at the stupid beast’s expense – there was no way the flea was actually hurt, how could anyone hurt his feelings when he had none?! _God dammit, I’m such a fucking fool._ Shizuo reached out and grabbed him by the arm anyway, he had fallen in too many traps over the years to start caring now. Maybe touching him was not a good idea though, seeing how he flinched out of the touch and backed away until his back slammed against the wall behind him. He didn’t look particularly scared, but Shizuo decided to keep his distance, just to be on the safe side.

 

“That’s not what I mean -”

 

“You don’t need to explain, you didn’t have to invite me in in the first place”. How on Earth did this idiot ever manage to manipulate people when he never listened? Or was it just Shizuo that he never listened to? Seeing him push himself off the wall with the clear intention of walking out of the kitchen and the apartment and disappearing into the night, Shizuo forgot about trying not to be intimidating and grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him back against the wall and blocking his escape route with his body.

 

“Will you stop being so fucking stubborn? I…” he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t say that, “I want you, you fucking idiot. I shouldn’t, I have no fucking right to, but I still want you, you treacherous, sneaky, blood-sucking flea”. Izaya was looking away, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge Shizuo’s pitiful confession. It was only when the blond grabbed his hand and pressed it tight against his chest that he finally looked up. The beast’s heart was racing. “It goes wild every time I so much as think of you. Now, please, stop running away, ok?” Forcing that bony hand against his chest was crossing the line, but when Shizuo retrieved his hand, Izaya didn’t move. His eyes were boring into the blond’s and his expression was unreadable, but maybe, _maybe,_ there was a hint of relief there, gratitude even. “Let’s not fuck this up again, neither of us is ready for…you know” _eloquent as ever,_ “there’s other things we can do together”.

 

And for all the effort he had put into being a responsible adult, of course the flea just laughed at him. “Like what? Watch a film and cuddle? You broke your TV!”

 

 _Cynical fucking bastard, of course I had to fall in love with a louse like you._ “We can have dinner together. It’s a bit screwed now, but…you look like you could use some food.”

 

He had half expected Izaya to laugh in his face again and disappear in the night like he was never even there. He hadn’t. The food was pretty bad, but the curry sauce helped to cover the taste of burnt rice. At least for Shizuo it did. Izaya was just as judgemental as anyone would have expected; the rice tasted like charcoal, the meat was overcooked, the curry sauce had clearly been made with one of those disgusting curry powders - _no?_ It was too mild, too sweet, if Shizuo would just stop buying these crappy mixes and start using real spices instead, the result would be so much better… And the coffee table was too uncomfortable, people ate at proper tables these days, with chairs and everything, not squatting on the floor like apes!

 

_When Shinra said ‘don’t touch him’, did he mean ‘don’t punch him’ as well?_

In the end, Izaya had barely touched his food and there was nothing Shizuo was willing to do about that – except for rubbing his nasty face into the curry to teach him some manners, but he doubted that would help anyone. The louse didn’t even bother pick up his plate when he was done – done playing with it, that is – but instead leaned against the couch and let his eyes fall shut. And suddenly Shizuo had forgotten all about his irritation and was just standing there watching him like he was some unique piece of art – not that he understood anything about art, but he knew beauty when he saw it. He was still in a trance when Izaya wondered out loud whether his clothes had dried by then – his eyes still fluttered shut and his face so serene it was as if Shizuo was looking at a completely different person – and that was the only reason why he dared make such a stupid suggestion: “Stay here tonight”. As if the implication of the words alone wasn’t bad enough, the tone had come out so needy he almost blushed. Izaya’s eyes popped open and they studied him for a moment – _a moment too long._ “I mean…it’s still raining outside and it’s late…the last trains to Shinjuku will be packed and…you don’t have to go, I’ll get you some clean sheets and I can sleep in the couch, it won’t be the first time -”

 

“I’m not sleeping alone in that room.”

 

Of course he wasn’t. Shizuo was foolish to even suggest it. The mattress was still stained with his blood, why would he ever want to lie in that bed again? Sighing dejectedly he turned to head to the bedroom, where he had hanged Izaya’s clothes to dry. “I’ll go check if your clothes are dry. Otherwise I can just lend you what you’re wearing -”

 

“Or you can just sleep in your bed with me tonight.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is getting ridiculously long. So now it's divided in three shorter chapters. And I'm sorry for the cliffhanger, I hate ending a chapter like that, but if I didn't put an end there I'd still be writing :/


	35. We all go back to where we belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course they would never forgive each other. But that didn’t mean that they would stop wanting each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update! I'm sorry I kept you waiting for this long, but it was impossible to update earlier. I don't know when the next update will be, but hopefully it will take me less than a month. I'm not making any promises though, because I really don't know.  
> I want to thank you for still reading, it means a lot to me that you keep checking back and it is the best motivation to find some time and continue writing this story even when I'm crazy busy. Thank you <3
> 
> I haven't had the time to properly go through this chapter and edit it, so if you come across terrible typos, mispellings, or any type of horrible mistakes don't feel bad about pointing them out - that way I can go back and edit this monstrous chapter :3

Shizuo was an idiot. He was never good at thinking things through, he was always below average at school and he never learned, no matter how many times he might burn himself. He was a stupid protozoan - he’d heard it coming out of Izaya’s mouth so often he’d had to believe it in the end – a gullible idiot, a beast completely incapable of rational thought. But for all the things he was, Shizuo was not delusional. No, that was Izaya’s specialty. He was not delusional; he didn’t suffer from hallucinations, or impaired hearing for that matter. And yet something had stopped him on his way to the bedroom, something that in his mind echoed dangerously like the flea’s voice making suggestions that had his blood thrumming and his skin aching without having even been touched. He turned, half expecting to find Izaya still leaning against the couch with his eyes shut, his serene form an unquestionable proof of the fact that he hadn’t spoken, hadn’t suggested that they slept together, in the same bed, like they’d only done twice before, the first time probably just to seal the deal, to put the last touch of manipulation in the opening act of Izaya’s latest and by far cruelest scheme, and the second nothing but a drunken mistake. But Izaya was looking at him, studying him expectantly, like he had indeed spoken, like he was waiting for an answer. _Another game, then?_ Izaya’s desperate attempt to salvage anything he could from months of hard work, playing Shizuo where he wanted him? Did it even matter when his hands were itching in anticipation of touching that skinny body, of tracing the non-existent curves of a form that had grown so angular it should probably scare him – Izaya was clearly doing a horrible job at taking care of himself, and this was the flea, the most self-centered, self-important, egotistical bastard there was.

 

“Are you sure?” _Are you sure that you want to? Sure that it’s ok? Sure that I won’t fucking break you once again?_

 

Izaya smiled and Shizuo couldn’t help but notice that there was little difference between a smile and a smirk when it came to the flea. Both were closed-mouthed, lips pulling dangerously over teeth that when partially bared reminded him of sharp fangs, eyes always just a little bit off as far as the expression was concerned; they never seemed to follow the same path as his lips, even when the expression actually reached those blood-like orbs. No, Izaya’s eyes were never simply smiling or mocking or taunting…they were always a step ahead, always processing, analyzing, cataloguing, calculating…

 

“Are you going soft on me, Shizu-chan?”

 

 _Soft?_ There couldn’t possibly be a worst choice of words and the bastard probably knew that seeing as he cocked his head to the side purring those words while his eyes drifted down towards the growing bulge in the worn out sweatpants the blond was wearing, making Shizuo’s skin crawl and his breath catch in his throat. There was something very wrong in the way the suggestion of them sleeping together – because that was what Izaya was suggesting, right? no sex, no games, no pretense, just sleeping in the same bed together, like they could, or were even _willing,_ to trust each other in such a vulnerable state – excited him more than any other thought could ever have. Maybe because it was something they had never really done together – not consciously. Maybe because Shizuo was not enough of a liar to pretend that he hadn’t been craving for something as simple and basic as that from the very first moment.

 

He didn’t bother reply. There was no need anyway, Izaya could easily tell what the suggestion alone was doing to him, and Shizuo himself wasn’t enough of a prick to try and deny it. He just stood there for a few more minutes, awkwardly ruffling his hair and watching the floor beneath his feet, as if there was some kind of answer to all this waiting for him down there. In the end he shrugged and straddled the distance to the couch, more resolutely than the situation called for, diving down at the other side, across where Izaya was pillowing his head on hands all bone and pale skin. His eyes were shut again, and Shizuo felt safe enough to watch him as he breathed softly, shoulders rising and falling with every quiet breath. The flea’s face was too pale to even be described as that; it was white to the point of looking clear, as if Shizuo could see the veins and bones underneath it if he just looked hard enough. The skin around his eyes had an ashen touch to it, and his cheekbones looked as if they were _that_ close to poking through that thin layer of flesh that still clung to them. So Shinra must have been right. This was the image of someone who had spent too long starving and working himself to exhaustion and it was all Shizuo’s fault. How Izaya had ever allowed himself to get so affected by anything, let alone the protozoan beast he always claimed to hate more than anything in the whole wide world, still escaped him, but it didn’t really matter in the end. He was going to make it up to him, even if it took his whole god damn life. He didn’t want a life anyway, not without Izaya making him loathe it every breathing second.

 

It took him a moment to realize that the bony shoulders were not just rising and falling with every breath, but also shuddering slightly. The flea looked as serene as ever, his eyes still shut and his lips a straight line, but there was no mistaking the way his limbs trembled. Shizuo took one look at the skinny hands propped against the couch, fingers curled against the cover of the cushions in a futile attempt to steal some warmth, skin underneath clipped fingernails turning slightly blue, and reached out for them without thinking.

 

There was no excuse for the way he jumped at the touch, except perhaps for the fact that the blond’s hand was so warm on top of his freezing fingers that the touch almost hurt. Shizuo seemed like he would have pulled his hand back if he hadn’t been as dumbfounded by his gesture as Izaya himself was, and instead ended up staring frozen at the wide eyed expression of sheer terror he’d swear he’d never before witnessed on the informant’s face. It was gone in a fraction of a second, replaced by a guarded sneer, but there was no convincing the blond that it had never been there.

 

“Are you cold?”

 

Izaya had the nerve to chuckle, like the idea of Shizuo caring about whether he was about to freeze to death on his living room floor was in fact amusing.

 

“No, Shizu-chan, I’m just a cold-blooded snake. Isn’t that what you always thought about me?”

 

“It’s not far from the truth now, is it?”

 

He wasn’t sure Izaya actually heard the insult, as he mumbled it on his way to the bedroom, but he felt certain the raven could decipher the meaning of his disgruntled sigh as he got up from the couch. There was no spare blanket in his bedroom, which meant Izaya would have to put up with the one Shizuo used every night – he’d have to put up with Shizuo’s scent wrapped tightly around him. At least if the damned flea jumped up and stormed out of the apartment with a disgusted expression on his face, Shizuo would finally get his answer as to whether this was another game or not. He wasn’t sure whether he wished for such a reaction or dreaded it.

 

The blanket was old and worn out like everything else in his apartment. He’d never before noticed - never cared – but now that his fingers dug into the worn thin cloth, Izaya silently waiting for him in the other room, it all felt so miserable. Shaking his head dejectedly at his own belated self-consciousness, he forced himself back to the living room and all the way to the couch where Izaya was still keeping his eyes closed. If he had been just a little bit more observant, he would have noticed the way those skinny shoulders tensed at the sound of his footsteps, and how the raven’s breath turned shallow at the expectation of an attack. Instinct was hard to fool.

 

“Get up from the floor”

 

On second thought, a gentler approach might have been better. Not that Izaya would care for gentleness, but still…

 

“I’m fine where I am”

 

Ok, so gentle or not, Izaya’s default response was to ignore him. He contemplated the chances of reasoning with him, but it didn’t take him long to decide that it would be pointless. So he just wrapped the blanket around the flea’s small body and without a word picked him up and scooped him on the couch. He expected more of a fight, but all he received was a glare and some squirming, before Izaya snuggled in the worn thin cloth and closed his eyes again. Counting seconds until the first wrinkling of the flea’s nose and the cutting comment about the stench of cigarettes, Shizuo made himself comfortable on the other side of the couch and patted his pockets for his pack. The bitter comment never came. Instead, Izaya peeked an eye open at the first blow of bitter smoke in his direction and studied Shizuo behind long black eyelashes.

 

“You were talking to Shinra before”. It wouldn’t have surprised him any less had it actually been a question, but still the flat even tone sent a chill down Shizuo’s spine. It always unnerved him how the damned flea could be so perceptive. Seeing that the blond was just staring at him dumbfounded, Izaya sighed and shut his eyes again. “How is he?”

 

Lying to Izaya was never a good idea - lying to anyone who could read right through you with such ease was never a good idea. So Shizuo took another drag from his cigarette, let the smoke slide down his throat and fill his lungs before slowly puffing it out, enjoying the lightheadednessit caused him before opening his mouth.

 

“He’d be a lot better if you hadn’t cut him up like that”. It was not like he wanted to rub it in the flea’s face –although some part of him undoubtedly enjoyed the thought- but more like he truly had no idea what could have pushed Izaya to such extremes. Sure, the informant hated being objected to the kind of situations he forced his victims in, namely situations were secrets best left untold were revealed to all the wrong people, but Shinra was hardly guilty of any crime. Shizuo had never liked the man much, but he had little doubt that the doctor had indeed nothing but the raven’s best interest in his mind.

 

“So Shinra is you new best friend now? Is that it?”

 

The bitterness in Izaya’s voice didn’t match the taunting smirk on his face, but Shizuo didn’t have to think too hard to guess which of the two was a lie.

 

“Hell no. You might have a few things in common with that butcher, but I only put up with him for Celty’s sake.”

 

The rusty look that met his through a grey cloud of smoke seemed perfectly emotionless.

 

“I have nothing in common with him”. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, Shizuo’s calm and quizzical, Izaya’s burning quietly with intensity. “You should be more thankful, though. Your beloved friend, that headless monster, still has no idea what you did to me. And it’s not my discretion you should thank for that.”

 

Shinra had no interest in protecting Shizuo’s friendship with Celty – quite the contrary, he would have been happy to see the two of them fall out. As ridiculous as it might be, the doctor had always been jealous of the fondness between the two monsters and Shizuo had often come to the realization that if Shinra could lock Celty up in a dungeon and keep her there, away from everyone but himself, he would be a happy man. _All the more reason to dislike him_. But he loved the dullahan with all his soul –with any scrap of soul that might have been left to him- and he wouldn’t have her hurt over Shizuo’s idiocy. That was the only reason he had fought so hard to keep Izaya from revealing the truth to her. But there was something else there; there was the chance to apologize once again, even if he knew for a fact now that Izaya didn’t care for apologies.

 

“I _am_ sorry, you know”. Izaya’s expression didn’t change, almost as if he hadn’t heard a word. “For everything, I mean. For everything that happened”. Still no reply but the rusty gaze didn’t leave his for a moment; Izaya refrained from even blinking. “It wasn’t entirely my fault though, was it?” it was a dangerous path, but the blame fell on both of them and he would not pretend otherwise. Those last words seemed to finally draw a response, as the bundle that was Izaya’s limbs wrapped in Shizuo’s blanket stirred uneasily.

 

“What do you want, Shizu-chan? My forgiveness?”

 

“No, I don’t deserve that”

 

“Good, because you shall never have it”. The tension settled in between them once again, blood-red eyes boring into honey brown, a thin film of smoke filtering a look so bitter, Shizuo could almost feel the aftertaste in his mouth. “I will never forgive you”, there was no way of knowing who Izaya was trying to convince by repeating himself, but Shizuo felt that it was all quite clear, really. Of course they would never forgive each other. But that didn’t mean that they would stop wanting each other.

 

“I did just what you wanted me to do, no?” Izaya’s look drifted away and Shizuo couldn’t help but stare in wonder; the flea was not the kind of man to look away. He was not the kind of man to admit being wrong either though; to admit that he had indeed wished for Shizuo to hurt him, for whichever reason, only to find out too late that there was nothing enjoyable about it. He sighed and run a hand through his hair before leaning over the coffee table to stub his cigarette out. “I don’t like the damned idiot, but there’s no doubt he cares about you. The only reason he ever told me anything was because he knew it would tear me to pieces.”

 

“None of that had anything to do with you!”

 

Izaya was a bit too fast to make that statement – with a little bit too much fervor. Of course it had everything to do with Shizuo. He had wanted this monster as his prize from day one. Maybe he wouldn’t have called it love back then –he hardly thought he’d dare call it that even now- but he had wanted him all the same; and Shizuo had turned him down with such ferocity that there was little left to do but hate the man with all his might. Shizuo had turned him down just like everyone else – everyone who truly knew him. And it was strange really, how a man so unsophisticated could take one look at him and see right through his intricate defenses. But Shizuo had somehow done that the day Shinra had introduced them; he had taken one good look and he had seen nothing. His brown eyes, blazing dark with anger, had stripped him bare right there on that field, had pierced through pretenses, through smirks and taunts and flesh, and had reached deep into Izaya’s soul; and they had gazed at the vast nothingness that was rooted in there, spreading faster and wider with every passing moment. And they had deemed him unworthy. Izaya hadn’t plunged head first in self-loathing after that day – no, self loathing was a good old friend of his, even if he had tried his best to hide that ugly monster so that no one would know how close the two of them were. He hadn’t gone on a self-hurting spree just to spite the blond. Izaya would always get himself in trouble, that was all. And back then he was still too young to effectively protect himself from danger and that was how he had ended up on his hands and knees in a dirty alley with a filthy stranger spreading his buttocks apart while shouting obscenities to raise his men’s cheers. That was all there was to say, really. He had never felt sorry for himself. No, he had led himself to that alley with his vanity and his carelessness. It was just a lesson he had had to learn in order to become who he now was and there was nothing else to say about that experience. But he could clearly remember thinking of that wild beast with the dyed golden hair as his insides were torn apart. He could remember wondering if a man like Shizuo would have been more merciful or perhaps more ruthless. He could remember looking at himself in the mirror a few hours later, after having scrubbed his skin raw, bruises forming on all the wrong parts of his body –between his legs and on his thighs and down his shins- blood still seeping from the cuts and the scrapes where his skin had been relentlessly rubbing against the gravel, and thinking _I bet you could hurt me so much worse, Shizu-chan._ He couldn’t tell why. After all these years, if someone were to ask him why Shizuo had been on his mind through all that, he wouldn’t have been able to answer them. But he knew for a fact that he had always expected the beast to hurt him worse than anyone.

 

“I don’t want to fight you, Izaya”, Shizuo’s tone was cautious and Izaya realized that he had been carried away by his thoughts, staring at some invisible spot at the other side of the room. The beast had been watching him quietly all this time. “I want to make it up to you. I don’t deserve another chance, but you’re here anyway. There’s no harm trying, right?”

 

“I don’t want your apologies. Save them for someone who might actually care”. Shizuo nodded solemnly. “And I’m not here to give you another chance either”, the blond’s honey-tinted eyes widened in concern, but he remained silent, waiting expectantly for Izaya’s next words. “I wanted to see you, so I came to see you. I don’t need you to make anything up to me; you’ve done more than enough already”

 

Shame burned in Shizuo’s chest, but his retort came none the less fierce. “You’ve done no less yourself through the years.”

 

“Do you want me to apologize, beast? Do you think you deserve an apology?”

 

This was the most honest conversation the two of them had ever had and Shizuo regretted having to end it before it spiraled into another fight. He sighed dejectedly and looked away before opening his mouth again – he didn’t wish to see Izaya’s expression as he spoke the following words.

 

“Shinra said you … _liked_ me a long way back”, Shinra’s words had been a lot bolder than this, but Shizuo was glad for his choice of words when he heard Izaya’s contemptuous snort.

 

“I should have taken his tongue”, his words nothing but a hiss and even though he wasn’t looking, Shizuo could still see the colour of the raven’s eyes turning just a bit darker, like thick blood.

 

“You sure as hell fooled me” he went on as if there had never been an interruption. “Can’t we be honest for a change?” Honesty could certainly save them a lot of grief. After all, Shizuo had always been too simple for anything other that honesty.

 

“Honest?” Izaya chuckled, his gaze burning Shizuo as he still refused to meet it. “Ok, Shizu-chan, let’s be honest. I wanted you as my personal pet from the moment I laid eyes on you. I wanted to play with you, use you, break you. All for my own sick pleasure. Is that honest enough for you?” Shizuo finally dared turn to face him; Izaya seemed bitter, but the flame in his eyes was merely a flicker. “You took one look at me and decided you didn’t like me. Good for you. If you ever thought there was anything pure in my heart for you, you might want to reconsider. You were right about me the first time.”

 

Of course Izaya’s honesty was brutal; everything about him had an edge to it. Shizuo appreciated it none the less – he hadn’t expected any less, either way. He probably shouldn’t be smiling at this, but his lips stretched out in a nostalgic grin even without his consent. “I really missed you, you know”. And for a moment Izaya looked taken aback. It was a priceless expression. “I might be a fool, but when I look at you, I see you. Not some fantasy.”

 

“Then you’re more of a fool than I thought you were.”

 

They had remained silent after that, Izaya drifting in and out of sleep tightly wrapped in Shizuo’s blanket, and Shizuo himself smoking quietly with his gaze fixed on the informant’s form. It was well past midnight when the raven untangled himself from the thin cloth, hair disheveled and borrowed clothes all wrinkled and hanging from his limbs like oversized curtains, to look straight at Shizuo and announce that it was time to go to bed. The blond had seemed terrified for a brief moment, but had eventually put out his cigarette and got up from the couch, all the while watching Izaya expectantly. Of course, he had to be the one leading the way, since it was his apartment. But he still waited for Izaya to stand up and lift the blanket in his hands, holding it close to his chest as he shuffled behind his host. The bedroom was quiet and cold, but Shizuo didn’t bother turn the light on; there was enough light coming in through the window. He walked to the bed and stood there awkwardly. There was only one pillow –he had never needed a spare one- and only one blanket, the one Izaya was holding against his chest. The informant circled the bed, choosing the side towards the window for no particular reason, and hurled the tangle that was now the blanket at the foot of the bed before sitting down on the mattress. The sheets were cool and he almost shivered at the contact. He had no doubt that the mattress underneath still bore the proof of that horrid night –his own blood, staining the fabric and seeping in the soft material inside it- but he reassured himself that that was not the reason why his body shivered. _It’s the cold, that’s all._ Shizuo was still standing by the bed, along the other side, watching Izaya’s back as if he expected to hear the man’s consent again before he dared move in the bed with him.

 

“Are you going to stand there all night?”

 

Izaya’s body had half-turned to pose that question, his bones and muscles moving gracefully underneath the borrowed sweater, but his face had wisely remained turned towards the other side of the room. Shizuo felt like he was about to bolt, but forced himself down on the bed instead. If that was what Izaya wanted, he’d find the strength in him to not fail him. They sat like that for a few minutes, back to back, nervously counting the passing moments with their breaths, coming shallow and hard now - from the excitement, the fear, or the exertion, neither of them knew. And then Izaya slowly shifted on the bed and lied down. Shizuo didn’t dare turn look at him, but he didn’t hear any rustling and didn’t feel the mattress dipping beneath him, so he felt certain that the bane of his existence was lying there waiting for him rather than sleeping. He took a deep breath before shifting to his side, his left leg sliding on the bed, his left hand supporting him on the mattress, very close to Izaya’s chest. Rusty eyes were watching him. The previous two times that the raven had slept in this bed with him, he had laid on that same side. Shizuo wondered silently whether it was the proximity to the window that made the man feel safer on that side – or maybe it wasn’t at all about safety, maybe the street lights just made Izaya feel more at home. He lied down, taking his time, doing his best to not touch the informant at all –a hard task on a single bed, way too narrow for two grown men to lie in it without making contact- and once he was settled he reached down and pulled the blanket over both of them. Izaya was watching him through it all, his eyes seemingly empty of emotion yet burning with unreadable intensity. Shizuo met his gaze and it took all his strength to hold it for a few long moments. Until Izaya smirked and huddled closer. That knowing gaze of his didn’t falter at all, it was glued on the blond’s face, but Shizuo himself found his eyes hungrily climbing down the bony figure that was curling up next to him and when scrawny legs brushed against his groin in an attempt to steal away some warmth from his burning body, his gaze froze just like the blood in his veins. He hadn’t realized, but he was achingly hard and the bony limb that brushed against him made his cock throb. He felt the blood rush to his face and he barely had the time to pretend that perhaps Izaya hadn’t felt a thing, hadn’t realized, before he heard the familiar giggle.

 

Lying in bed with the monster who had reduced him to a simple human wasn’t half as terrifying as it ought to be, Izaya thought to himself as he watched the panic rise deep inside the beast’s eyes. Shizuo wasn’t looking at him, he was looking anywhere but him, and that made Izaya feel like he was the only one with true power in the room. How could this man ever defeat him? The hard flesh rubbing against the inside of his thigh should be making him nauseous; it was the weapon that had tore him apart so viciously on this same bed. But then Izaya had never been normal. Neither had Shizuo. So maybe there was nothing wrong with feeling comfortable –aroused, even- in this situation. “Sorry”. It was nothing but a whisper, but Izaya heard the word loud and clear, just as clear as he could see the red coloring the blond’s features. He couldn’t help but giggle at that and before Ikebukuro’s monster could run away like the frightened child he so often was, he grabbed his large hand under the blanket and slowly led it between his legs, pressing it hard against his own erection. Honey brown eyes wide with surprise finally looked up to meet his, and Izaya couldn’t help but giggle some more at the completely dumbstruck expression on that stupid face. _You are an idiot, Shizuo Heiwajima._ He pressed in closer to that hard body and the scent of cigarettes and warm flesh filled his nostrils, making him feel lightheaded. Shizuo seemed so utterly panicked that Izaya could feel no fear for the man; only longing and yearning and that insufferable heat in the lower part of his body. Shinra would be appalled at the way his friend twisted and turned his body under the blanket to get as close to the blond as possible, to feel the friction of their hard flesh rubbing against each other, to drown in the sound of breath hitching in his – _his-_ beast’s throat. The thought excited Izaya even further – Shinra would screech in horror at the fact that Izaya Orihara could get hard for the man who had almost killed him and with that in mind, Izaya brushed his lips against Shizuo’s, breathing hard against his archenemy’s strong jaw. And that was when it all went horribly wrong.

 

Shizuo might have been able to detect the change in Izaya’s behavior had he not been so engrossed in his own yearning. He might have been able to feel the first mild shudders rippling through the small body in his arms, or the way blood drained from those bony hands, leaving them icy cold against his skin. But he didn’t feel any of it. He let his hands roam down the skinny body that was pressed against his, fingers tracing bones over taut skin underneath the soft fabric of borrowed clothes, digging possessively in it, and claimed that poisonous mouth with all the passion he had been keeping at bay all this time. But when he stopped being scared, he stopped being safe. Izaya felt his mouth being devoured by the beast, his skin bruising under hungry touches, and all the horror came rushing back to him. He refused to give in to the terror, but once the fear had been dragged out into the light there was only so much he could do to control it. He tried to put some distance between him and the man responsible for all this horror, but Shizuo was still lost in his passion and just held on to him more fiercely. He repeated words of comfort in his mind, trying to calm himself down, but the mouth devouring his felt too violent, too familiar, too wild…and he could suddenly feel his skin ripping, the blood gashing from the fresh wound, trickling down his jaw, and down his neck, seeping through his borrowed clothes and tainting the sheets, he could feel the iron tang filling his mouth and he almost gagged. He had to push the blond off of him and jump out of the bed, arms extended in front of him, fingers clawing the wall for support as he took a couple of unsteady steps away from the bed and towards the window. There was no blood in his mouth… _no blood, no blood…_ How could he have been so stupid to think that he could have actually gone through this so soon? He heard Shizuo sit up on the bed and even though he knew that the blond was probably worrying sick over him he couldn’t fight off the tremors that seized him at the absurd thought that the beast would lunge at him. “Shit, I’m sorry! Are you ok?” Izaya took a couple more steps towards the window, hoping to get there and open it, just to get some fresh air and fight off the nausea, but when he heard the unmistakable creaking of the bed as the blond moved to get out of it, he crumbled to the floor, making himself as small as possible with his back pressed hard against the wall and his arms raised like a shield in front of his face.

 

“Stay away from me!”

 

He was breathing hard now and his hands were shaking badly, Shizuo could see it even in the darkness of the room and from a good distance. This was not just fear, this was far more intense and far more vicious. This…Shinra had talked about this. Stepping cautiously out of the bed and noting how Izaya shrank even further against the wall, Shizuo did his best to remember just what it was that the doctor had told him about this – he had paid little attention at the time, certain that Shinra was exaggerating just to make him feel bad. “Is there anything I can do?” asking Izaya for instructions seemed like the safest way to go. The skinny arms shivered some more, but Shizuo could tell now that they were shielding his gaze from the face hiding behind them and not the other way around. Shinra had told him that the fear wasn’t real; it was a physical reaction, it didn’t necessarily mean that Izaya believed he was in danger; he just couldn’t help it. And perhaps Shizuo was too much of an idiot to understand just what that meant or how it was even possible, but he could clearly see that Izaya was more embarrassed rather than scared, and that made him feel somewhat better.

 

“O-open…the window…f-for me” his voice trembled as much as his body and he almost cursed himself for it. Shizuo moved cautiously, quietly across the room, opened the window like was asked of him, and then retreated back towards the bed, as far away from Izaya as the room permitted. The cold fresh air hit him like a current of icy water and for a moment he feared he would pass out. But that moment passed and he was still sitting upright, arms raised in front of his face, knees pressed hard against his chest. He hated this. He hated himself for it. He hated Shinra for not being able to come up with a cure for it. He hated the doctor even more for managing to fight these stupid panic attacks by holding him. He hated himself for believing that Shinra actually loved him. The room started spinning around him and he had to bite down hard on his lower lip to stop his mind from spiraling into unnerving thoughts. Once the vertigo subsided, he let his arms drop to his sides and chuckled at himself. “You m-might…want to sl-eep…in the couch…after all”.

 

How did he manage to look defiant with his face white as a sheet, raven strands sticking against his forehead and eyes looking sullen and empty, Shizuo had absolutely no idea. But he was not leaving him alone. “Shinra says they go away on their own after a while…these panic attacks”.

 

A red flame flashed with anger in Izaya’s eyes, but when he spoke his tone was playful – and Shizuo was thankful for that. “Shinra has a…big…mouth”.

 

A smile lingered on his face long after those words had drifted away and Shizuo took the opportunity to chance a step towards him, squatting on the floor a few feet from him. Izaya’s body tensed and shuddered violently, but the playfulness never left his eyes.

 

“He said he held you through these…fits” he was impressed at the fact that he could still remember the terminology the doctor had used, but Izaya seemed less fascinated by what those words were implying. “He said it helped.”

 

Blinking tiredly, Izaya sighed. “No offense, Shizu-chan…but you are not my friend.”

 

The choice of words took him by surprise, even more so than the fact that the raven’s voice was coming a lot calmer and more even now. He had expected him to point out that Shizuo was not a doctor, not Shinra maybe, than he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do, but he had certainly not expected to hear the word ‘friend’ coming from Izaya’s lips.

 

“I thought Shinra wasn’t your friend either.”

 

Judging by how buffled he looked, Izaya had most definitely not realized what he had said. Before he could gather his thoughts enough to come up with a cutting retort, Shizuo moved even closer, sitting on his knees right in front of him, eyes watching him, measuring him. If he noticed how Izaya’s breath caught in his throat, while the tremor in his limbs and face grew a bit more desperate, he didn’t make any comments. He just sat there quietly for a few moments, watching Izaya struggle to suck in shallow, painful breaths, his stomach churning at the effort to keep himself composed. And then he raised a hand to trace that tiny scar on the left corner of the flea’s lips.

 

Izaya jerked so hard, his head slammed against the wall behind him and his vision was filled with a blinding flash for a moment. When the white glare subsided, Shizuo was watching him closely, the tip of his index just barely touching the skin under Izaya’s mouth. Despite the pain and the panic and the impossible dryness in his mouth, Izaya managed a barely audible “don’t touch me”, but Shizuo ignored him, tracing the scar from one end to the other. Clenching his teeth together and twisting his fists into tight balls, Izaya urged himself to defy the shudders. He was stronger than this, whatever it was – although he wasn’t really, because Shinra had thoroughly explained to him that _this_ was in fact his mind, taking liberties in order to keep him safe, and there was hardly anything he could do to fight his own mind. But he tried anyway, swallowing pitiful whimpers and ignoring the aching of his muscles as they screamed from the exertion of tensing up to force his body to stay still when all he wanted to do was run away. Shizuo, perfectly oblivious to Izaya’s suffering, traced the scar again and again, his fingers running up and down the broken skin, eyes devouring that horrible inch of deformed flesh, burning with an intensity that reminded Izaya too much of the night when he had been given this scar. The shudders grew violent again at that thought and he shut his eyes tight before opening them again. “Sh-shizuo…get…away…from me”.

 

Shizuo met his gaze and held it quietly for what felt like hours to Izaya. “You were never scared of me”.

 

“I’m n-not sc-scared of -”

 

“You were _never_ scared of me. Not when everyone else stayed miles away from me, not when my so-called friends tiptoed around me – _you_ were _never_ scared of me. And you are not scared of me now either”. His fingers were lingering over the scar, his voice was soft and deep, and Izaya wanted to trust him, Izaya knew what those words meant and wanted to show him that he truly was not afraid, but his body kept failing him. “I will never hurt you again, Izaya. It’s ok if you never forgive me, I will never hurt you anyway”. Before the flea had the chance to say anything, he leaned in and brushed his lips against that tiny piece of cracked skin. Izaya’s mouth fell open in a silent scream as a violent shudder ripped across his spine, making his whole body pulse even after it was gone and his head throb painfully. But Shizuo didn’t pull back, instead he moved closer, planting a soft kiss on the corner of his lips, murmuring “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Izaya, I’m sorry”, and one kiss followed another and then another, every one of them more desperate than the previous one.

 

There was no excuse for the sheer terror that had seized him, but Izaya found it impossible to fight it any more. He raised his arms between his body and the blond’s with the intention of pushing him away, but he was trembling so hard there was little strength left in them. They ended up awkwardly trapped between their bodies, shaking with a ferocity that made his muscles burn, and as Shizuo pressed even closer to him, his lips claiming that scar again and again, Izaya found it increasingly hard to breath. The thought that he might actually pass out crossed his mind and he clasped the front of Shizuo’s t-shirt to try and make him stop, but the kisses and the murmured apologies only grew louder and hungrier and more urgent.

 

Shizuo was murmuring the words, the pleas for forgiveness, against Izaya’s skin, drawing his lips across the scar and gently caressing it with his warm breath, fully aware of the fact that Izaya was about to fall apart. Perhaps it would be best for both of them to fall apart, so they could put the pieces back together. He only stopped when he felt the skinny body collapse against his, completely spent. Izaya’s breath was coming shallow and ragged at first, but it grew even after a while. His hands had trailed down on his lap and his body was no longer shaking – just doused in sweat from the exertion. Shizuo let him stay like this for a while, leaning against him, before slowly pulling the scrawny legs around his waist and wrapping his own arms around the tiny waist. When he started to pull the flea up with him though, Izaya jolted in his arms and let out a panicked wimper. “I’m just taking you to bed”, he whispered it against the flea’s ear, and when he received no reply he pushed himself on his feet, lifting the feathery body on his arms with him. Izaya held on to the broad shoulders lifting him up and let his head fall against one of them – he was too exhausted to fight anymore, and even though that was probably not the same as defeating his fear, it seemed to have the same effect. Moving a hand up the flea’s bony back to steady him, Shizuo was overcome with the memory of that night when Izaya had stretched his arms over his head to touch the ceiling – _touch the sky_ , were his own words. He moved over to the bed and carefully lowered the half-asleep devil that had brought everything upside down in his life on the cool sheets. Izaya disentangled himself from the blond and lay there with his eyes shut peacefully, as if he was already fast asleep. Shizuo smiled at that oddly serene face, finding it impossible to move away. “I’ve carried you like this before – do you remember?” Izaya frowned, but that could just as easily be in his sleep. “You asked me if I’d be yours than night”. Guarded rusty orbs were revealed behind heavy eyelids and Shizuo caught himself grinning sheepishly.

 

“I never said that”, Izaya’s voice was barely a whisper and Shizuo wondered whether he would even remember the conversation the next morning.

 

“Yes, you did. You were so drunk and beautiful that night…”, Izaya seemed to be having a hard time keeping his eyes open but Shizuo couldn’t stop the words coming out of his mouth, “…and I was yours long before you asked”. He leaned in to land a soft kiss on Izaya’s temple, and as he started to get out of the bed to let the flea sleep, a bony hand grabbed hold of the front of his t-shirt and held him stubbornly close. That rusty gaze was revealed again, holding his long enough for Shizuo to finally nod in consent. He lied down next to the skinny man who had been his enemy and his lover and whom he could hardly stand but couldn’t help desiring at the same time and pillowed his head on his hands. Izaya turned to the side and watched him for a few moments, his eyes struggling to stay open, until Shizuo chuckled and told him to sleep already. It didn’t take him long. Once his eyes were shut, his breathing found its rhythm very quickly and all the viciousness and malice disappeared from his face, leaving nothing but soft skin and warm breath. Shizuo was determined to get out of the bed as soon as the flea had fallen asleep, just to give him some more space and let him rest properly, but before he could find it in him to walk away from that sleeping figure, Izaya’s body started shuddering and jerking again. _Nightmares,_ he thought; another story he’d heard from Shinra, another story he had dismissed as hyperbole. He didn’t think about it too much –thinking was never his strong point- but rather let his instinct take over. He pulled the skinny body towards him and held it close until it relaxed again. He didn’t dare leave the bed after that. Izaya slept in his arms all night, with his face pressed against his chest, breathing in his scent. Shizuo didn’t manage to sleep much, but he couldn’t complain; he would have gladly traded in every night’s sleep for the chance to hold that body close to him.


	36. Quicksand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you wake up someone sleeping in your bed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Celty and Shinra in this chapter, finally! I've been meaning to explain Celty's behaviour for a while now, but could never bring myself to touch her character :/ I hope I didn't screw it up completely. There will be more of these two later on, but I hope this explains a few things. And of course the morning after! Enjoy and thank you for reading! :)

The call was ended while Shinra was still speaking, giving out warnings of all kind while fighting back the urge to lace in a few threats for good measure. He didn’t trust Shizuo, but he was cut out of Izaya’s life and he needed someone to keep an eye on the informant and possibly take care of him. Having the perpetrator look after the victim was perhaps the most twisted idea ever, but it was the only available solution – and where Shizuo and Izaya were involved nothing could ever be too twisted. He put the phone down and pushed his glasses up his head to rub his face with his hand; he could feel a headache creeping up to his temples. It was all he could do to not run over to Shizuo’s flat to make sure the idiot wouldn’t screw it all up again. Izaya needed help and comfort, and as regretful as the blond might be the two of them could simply not be trusted to not rile each other up. _This is going to be a disaster._ He never wanted Izaya to go back to this...relationship, whatever its nature, but there was nothing he could do now. He’d have to trust the two most untrustworthy, childishly stubborn and egotistical individuals he knew to act like grownups and manage not to hurt each other. It somehow didn’t sound like a good premise.

 

He felt more than heard Celty come out of her room and walk over to him in the kitchen. As battered as he was feeling, sensing her close to him lifted the weight off his shoulders. They hardly exchanged two words these days – and he was usually the one to speak both of them, Celty just ignoring him most of the time – and Shinra couldn’t help but feel guilty, like he had somehow betrayed or let her down. He had tried to get her to tell him exactly what he had done wrong, but she never seemed willing to discuss whatever was bothering her. Sensing her moving over to the kitchen and sitting down at the table across from him, he silently wondered maybe that had finally changed, maybe she had finally decided to talk to him. He adjusted his glasses and looked up at her, taking a deep breath. It puzzled him that no one saw the beauty he was constantly dazzled by; it was all there, right in front of him, in that strong, beautiful, pure body, human-like yet so much more than a simple human. The sheepish smile that spread over his face earned a puff of dark shadow from the woman he loved and he found himself murmuring her name, for his own pleasure more than anything, just to feel that sound on his tongue. He could hardly remember what was bothering him moments ago and where his headache had come from. Celty sat there rigidly for a few moments before pulling out her PDA and typing on it.

 

[Are you ok?]

 

He had expected something completely different – perhaps an accusation, or an attack of some sort – and he blinked in surprise. Celty retreated the device to type a few more words.

 

[You don’t look well]

 

The headache disappeared almost instantly and his next words were more of a reflex than a reply.

 

“I love you so much!”

 

There had never been any doubt about his feelings in his heart, but Celty had always seemed embarrassed by how bluntly he expressed them. Another puff of smoke rose from her neck and she held the PDA close to her chest before starting to type another message. Shinra could feel the silly smile on his face, but he didn’t care. Unlike his idiot friends, he didn’t see anything wrong in appearing vulnerable in front of his loved one; that was the whole point of loving someone, no?

 

[I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you. I’m sorry.]

 

That was all he needed, all he had been waiting and hoping for – or perhaps even more that what he had been hoping for. He sprang up with the intention of throwing himself at her, finally able to hold her after almost a month of this cold distance she had forced between them, but the PDA was thrown in his face before he could get his hands on her.

 

[I need some time!]

 

Time…She had all the time in the world, she had had more time on this planet than any human being and Shinra had given her as much time as she had needed in order to come to terms with his feelings, accept them and reciprocate them. But what she was asking for now was time _away from him_. And that was like asking him to live without oxygen; simply impossible. He sank back in his chair, watching her.

 

“Have I done something?”

 

She seemed to consider it, which was a good sign; whatever it was, it wasn’t too bad. She typed a message on her PDA and held it up hesitantly over the table for him.

 

[You’re hiding something from me.]

 

Shinra started to explain that he had no secrets from her – a lie of course, but despite his deep, undeniable love for her, he had never seen anything wrong in lying to her if it was for the best of their relationship – but Celty held her free hand up to shush him before typing some more.

 

[I don’t know what it is, but it’s never good when you’re lying to me. I don’t like you keeping secrets from me.]

 

Shinra had no problem keeping secrets from her, he never saw any reason why he should. He knew exactly where her head was, from the very beginning, and it had never even crossed his mind to tell her; getting her memories back could easily mean that he’d lose her and nothing was more important than the two of them being together. He could tell that the thought was distressing her though, so he sighed and did his best to reassure her without having to reveal anything she didn’t know.

 

“It’s not my secret to share it”

 

[It’s his secret. All the more reason to worry.]

 

If Celty ever found out, she would probably deal with it much better than anyone else. Shinra was surprised at the fact that he really believed that and still felt the need to protect her. He just wanted to spare her the pain; there was no point in lying, he had always been jealous of the fascination Ikebukuro’s monster seemed to invoke in her, but there was no doubt that she put a lot of faith in the man. Shinra had always guessed that the two of them felt connected in their lonely, inhuman nature and it was exactly that thought that unnerved him: Celty would see herself reflected in the monstrous nature of the one person she felt connected to and he simply couldn’t allow that.

 

“I know you don’t like him-”

 

He would have gone on to reassure her that Izaya was actually harmless, just as human and vulnerable as anyone else, but she cut him off before he could say another word, typing one sentence after the other.

 

[I don’t dislike him.]

[I don’t like him, but I don’t dislike him either.]

[I know what he does, I’ve seen what he is capable of.]

[I don’t trust him.]

[I don’t want you to get hurt because of him.]

 

A sort of warmth took over him, and he knew he should be feeling bad for making her upset but all he could think about was the fact that she _cared_.

 

“He would never hurt me – I mean, not for real. He knows when to stop. He needs an audience after all and someone to pick him up when he crashes down hard!”

 

On second thought, he shouldn’t have let amusement seep into that thought; Celty seemed annoyed again, if the shadows twirling above her neck where any indication.

 

[I want to say a few things. I need to tell you, so you don’t think I am angry at you. Don’t interrupt me for a moment.]

 

He nodded, to urge her on and show that he understood. She wasn’t angry at him and that was all he wanted to hear.

 

[I always told you to make friends with people.]

 

[Izaya was not the person I had in mind, but then I figured out that I shouldn’t have expected anything better from you.]

 

Shinra suppressed a whine at that and kept quiet.

 

[I was happy for every moment you spent with him, because no matter how bad an influence he was, at least he was a human being.]

[I don’t know what happened to him, but I understand that he was attacked and badly hurt. I am glad that you helped him and that you seem to care about him.]

[But he is cruel and more inhuman than any human I’ve met, and I don’t like what you let him do to you.]

 

Despite having promised to keep quite, Shinra found that he couldn’t let that pass.

 

“He is harmless, Celty! In fact, there are more chances that he will be hurt by me than that anything he’ll ever do will actually hurt me!”

 

[I remember you the day you threw him out! You were a mess by whatever he said to you and then you went and took him in again!]

[You took care of him and treated him like you would a friend, and what did he do? He attacked you!]

[And you know what he’s done to Shizuo!]

 

If only he could have stopped that nasty chuckle! But this was too much really, he could accept Celty’s observation on the effect Izaya’s mood swings and nasty comments had on him, but he simply couldn’t put up with that monster being victimized when he was the one to have lit the match that burnt down everything he knew about his friends.

 

“ _He_ didn’t do anything to Shizuo!”

 

He couldn’t tell whether it was his words or the intensity with which he had spoken them that stunned Celty, but she stilled for a moment, her fingers frozen over her keyboard.

 

[He has ruined Shizuo’s life in every possible way. I don’t know how, but I am certain he was behind all this as well, and Shizuo might end up in jail for one of Izaya’s little games! And you defend him!]

 

Seeing her stand up, Shinra jumped up as well and reached out for her. Her arm was snatched out of his grasp, but at least she didn’t walk away.

 

“It’s not your fault, whatever happened between me and Izaya. You wanted me to make friends and I did. Maybe he’s not the best friend, but he is the only one I have except for you. I know you care about Shizuo, but I don’t see why anything that happens between them should affect us.”

 

[Am I your friend?]

 

They were more than friends, but there was no denying that Celty had been Shinra’s only friend for many many years. And whatever feelings he had for her, had been feeding on that friendship all this time. He couldn’t even find the words to express the connection he felt to her, so he just nodded quietly.

 

[I want to know what it is that you’re hiding from me and why you feel the need to keep secrets at all.]

 

Was this what it felt like to be faced with an impossible dilemma? He had already betrayed Izaya’s trust once and he simply couldn’t do it again; Izaya wouldn’t hesitate to use Celty to hurt him, and that was not something he could deal with. Refusing to tell Celty would however equal proof that she was not as important to him as he claimed her to be. She might as well cut him with her scythe, for he didn’t see any point in living without her. It took him so long to reply that Celty decided she no longer wanted to hear whatever he was going to say; it would either be a lie, or something she didn’t wish to deal with.

 

[I hope whatever secret you’re keeping for him, is worth it. Because he would never do the same for you.]

 

Of course he wouldn’t. Izaya made a living out of trading secrets. He would never hesitate to betray or hurt anyone in order to win one of his games. And Shinra knew this, yet somehow couldn’t bring himself to betray such a man for the sake of the woman he loved. Watching her disappear into her room again, he felt the headache creep back in.

 

*

 

Shizuo was a heavy sleeper. And not just that, but he actually enjoyed sleep; he could take a nap at any time of the day, even sitting on a bench in the park – Tom always said it was a sign of a calm mind and a good heart. Shizuo couldn’t see how either of those two phrases could ever be used to describe him, but had never bothered contradict his senpai. When he finally got out of bed that morning though, after only having slept for a couple of hours altogether, he felt as relaxed and revitalized as he would have been had he slept half a day. He walked out of the bedroom and into the living room stretching his muscles and groaning at the numbness that had wrapped around his limbs. Izaya’s sleep had been restless and Shizuo had made it his goal to keep him warm and safe all night, lulling him back into sleep every time he’d gasp and jolt in his dreams. He could almost see the images playing behind those closed eyelids and it crashed his heart that he was the protagonist of those violent nightmares.

 

He took a bottle of milk from the fridge and walked back to the bedroom as quietly as possible while gulping it down. Izaya was still deep in sleep, but he looked a lot calmer now. Shizuo couldn’t claim to know much about the informant’s sleeping patterns, but he felt certain that he was not the kind of person to sleep in or snooze. No, he seemed like one of those neurotic creatures who could hardly sleep for five hours without waking up at least once every hour. _He probably thinks sleep is a waste of time._ He chuckled at himself, letting his gaze caress the sleeping figure. No flea as vile and vicious as him had the right to look so beautiful while asleep. He seemed like he had needed the rest, if the ashen touch of his complexion and the bags under his eyes were any indication. Shizuo remembered the way that skinny body trembled against his, caught in the middle of a panic attack the previous night, and shivered. He was not very smart, but he had a feeling that even someone as bright as the flea himself couldn’t understand a reaction as instinctive and irrational as that his body had had a few hours earlier. Instinct was something Shizuo could work with, perhaps easier and more successfully than Izaya could.

 

Taking the now empty bottle back to the kitchen, he checked his mobile for the time; Izaya had been asleep for over 8 hours. Waking him up would only lead to smartass comments and bubbling irritation, but it was almost 9 in the morning, and there was no doubt that Tokyo’s most infamous informant had places to be and lives to ruin before noon. Shizuo took a moment to relish the comforting silence in the flat, before putting his phone down on the coffee table and walking back to the bedroom.

 

How do you wake up someone sleeping in your bed? Someone you’ve hated all your life, someone whose life you’ve threatened almost as many times as you’ve spoken their name? Someone you have hopelessly fallen in love with and foolishly ended up abusing? Someone who has just hours ago stated with all the cruelty in the world that he has only ever seen you as a pet, a toy to pass his time with until it’s broken and thrown away? Shizuo stood by the bed for a few long minutes, ruffling his hair and snorting at his cowardice. This was not a “make-up”. They had spent the night together, but Izaya had made it painfully clear that this was not the equivalent of a second chance. So what was it and where was the line drawn? Was Shizuo even allowed to touch him outside of that little game, that dance they had performed the previous night? Would Izaya ever accept a gesture of affection from him, either way?

 

_Screw that…_

 

“Oi, flea!” Izaya stirred and frowned, but his eyes remained shut. Shizuo reached out and grabbed the pillow under the raven head, pulling it away the way he’d do when he was still sharing a room with Kasuka – although it was Kasuka who would usually wake him up for school, but whenever Shizuo wanted to wake his brother, that was the best way he could come up with (if he stopped to think about how hard it had always been for him to show affection even to the person he cared about the most, he would be appalled at himself, so he just pushed that thought to the back of his mind). “Oi, wake up! I don’t know what kind of shady shit you spend your days on, but I’m sure you have people to torture on such a beautiful morning!”

 

Izaya had been immersed in a dreamless sleep and didn’t appreciate being violently woken from it after having spent the best half of a year tortured by all kinds of nightmares. His eyelids were heavy with sleep, but as soon as his mind registered the voice that was reaching his ears his body tensed and his right hand instinctively reached for the switchblade he had hid in his pocket last night, pulling it out and flicking it open as he jumped up. He caught a glimpse of the surprised look on the beast’s face before dropping down on the bed again – moving so fast after just having woken up gave him a headrush and he brought his armed hand up to support his head which felt as heavy as if it was made of lead. Before he knew it, the switchblade was pulled out of his hand and Shizuo was bending over him.

 

“Did you take a switchblade in bed with you? What the fuck did you do; hide it up your ass?”

 

“It was in my pocket, idiot!” Great, he was hardly awake and was already getting a headache thanks to this monster!

 

“What were you planning to do? Stab me to death with this toothpick?! Would that be before or after you seduced me, had a fit and passed out in my arms?”

 

That was not something he should be using as ammunition, but then if either of them had known anything about boundaries, they wouldn’t be in this situation now – at least that’s what Shizuo told himself to fight the guilt Izaya’s venomous glare gave rise to.

 

“Is this any way to wake someone up, stupid protozoan?” Izaya wished he still had that switchblade in his hand to stab the smirk out of the idiot’s face. “What time is it?”

 

“Around 9.” The time caused a chain reaction of tangled sheets, curses and the bathroom door banging behind an enraged flea. Shizuo felt like he would be laughing was he not so irritated by the uncalled for hostility. When Izaya emerged from the bathroom wearing his most aggressive expression and demanding to know why he hadn’t waken him up earlier, the thin thread holding Shizuo’s temper together snapped. “If you want an alarm clock, use your damned phone! Or better even, sleep in your own fucking bed!”

 

Why was the first thing that ever came out of his mouth in this man’s presence a huge mistake? He would take it back if he thought there was even a chance Izaya wouldn’t laugh in his face for being such a wuss, but the challenge was already written all over the informant’s face.

 

“That’s not what you said last night”, the sharpness of his smirk could cut through Shizuo’s skin easier than any of his switchblades.

 

“I was just being nice for your sake, louse!” _Stop making me lie to you!_

 

“Stop trying to be nice beast, it doesn’t suit you.” Izaya trailed off into the hallway before finishing his sentence and Shizuo followed him into the kitchen and watched him go through the drawers and cupboards, opening lids and sniffing at the contents of jars and boxes. He almost felt like telling him off, but there was something comforting in the domesticity of the scene – Izaya would no doubt cut his tongue out if he dared share that thought. “Coffee! Where do you keep your coffee?” If he hadn’t knows any better, he would have thought he had some kind of duty to provide the man with coffee, judging from the demanding tone and the exasperation evident in those slumped shoulders.

 

“I don’t”. _His eyes look paler in the morning,_ Shizuo contemplated as a rusty look turned to fix on him. It was almost as if the intensity of that gaze was turned down, still numb from sleep. He couldn’t decide whether he liked that or not. “No coffee in my kitchen”

 

“How can you not have coffee?” As if distrusting Shizuo to know what he kept in his kitchen drawers, Izaya started looking through them furiously, only to be dragged back by a strong grip on the back of his borrowed sweater.

 

“Stop messing up my kitchen, flea! I don’t have any coffee, I don’t drink it”

 

“But you must have some for your visitors!”

 

He never would have imagined that all it took to get Orihara Izaya to act like a stubborn child, stomping defiantly and repeating _“you must!”_ as if that could actually convince anyone or alter the truth, was to refuse him a cup of coffee the moment he opened his eyes in the morning. It seemed amusingly fitting though, and Shizuo silently wondered whether the flea had ever been that simple as a child.

 

“I don’t have any visitors, dumbass!” Izaya seemed lost at the prospect of starting his day without coffee and Shizuo’s tone softened by reflex. “You can get a coffee on your way to the station, it’s not the end of the world”

 

Addiction was a deplorable weakness; any kind of addiction. Izaya was not addicted – to anything. _Except for this stupid sack of meat, maybe,_ he thought with distaste, glancing back at the blond. But he needed coffee in the morning, just like any normal adult did. No, he didn’t _need_ it, because Orihara Izaya didn’t _need_ anything, but he wanted it, he was used to starting his day with coffee, and having to change his habits for the sake of this brute was simply out of the question.

 

“How can you not drink coffee?”

 

It wasn’t really a question that required an answer, but Shizuo shrugged anyway: “Don’t like it; it’s too bitter.” But then of course Izaya had to make him regret ever being civil around him.

 

“ _Too bitter_? How old are you?” He let the insult settle before striding out of the kitchen and back into the bedroom. His clothes were hanging at the clothes rack in the far right corner of the room, but picking them up Izaya realized they were still damp. It was no surprise, they had been soaked the previous evening and they had been hanged to dry indoors, in a room with no heating. Somehow, Shizuo was to blame for all of this. Hearing him walk into the room, Izaya snapped with a lot more venom than was absolutely necessary. “Get out! In fact, don’t come anywhere near me into a mile’s radius!”

 

“Oi, this is my bedroom you know!”

 

The idiot was asking for it, really. Izaya could clearly remember the way Shizuo had held on to him the previous night, while his body defied him and claimed control of his mind, and instead of feeling thankful, he just felt ashamed. He didn’t want the beast’s pity, he wanted him to be ruthless, the way monsters were supposed to be. And he was going to bark that ruthlessness into life if he had to. Turning around and looping his hands under the sweater he had on, he flashed his most mischievous grin.

 

“Care to watch me while I change?” his tone inviting enough for Shizuo to freeze and swallow thickly, causing Izaya to cackle. “Too bad, I don’t give shows for free and you could never afford me! Get. Out.”

 

_Kill kill kill kill killkillkillkillkillkillkillkill…_

 

He could kill the wall maybe, or the kitchen counter, maybe even his front door – who would dare walk into the beast’s lair, anyway? – but he couldn’t kill Izaya, he couldn’t, he shouldn’t, he… **He would kill that bastard!** Pacing up and down the living room didn’t help much, he needed to break something to pieces in order to keep himself from wringing that neck the moment the louse walked out of the bedroom. But no, no no no no no no no no NO! He wouldn’t wreck his flat for that stinking flea’s sake, he’d rather murder the insect on the spot! _No no no no no…I promised never to hurt him again, no matter what. I won’t kill him, I love him, remember?! I held him all night, I watched him sleep, remember how good he looked asleep? But of course he looked good asleep, because he wasn’t fucking talking, or looking down on me with those nasty eyes, the stinking louse! Oh fuck, calm down, he was shaking last night, he was a mess, a wreck emotionally, isn’t that what Shinra said? He needs help, he needs looking after, he… Fuck that, he needs a punch in the face to teach him some manners!_

 

“If you keep stomping around like that, you’ll end up trenching your living room floor-”

 

The wild cry startled him worse than the smash of wood into splinters, but either way he ended up jumping on his feet and instinctively reaching for a switchblade that was not in his pocket. His heart racing in his chest, he took a moment to assess the situation; the coffee table was completely smashed, but at least Shizuo seemed to be coming down from his high already. Concluding that there was no real danger, Izaya put on his best mask of boredom and dusted his clothes with mock disappointment.

 

“I would have personally gone for that hideous couch, but I guess the coffee table was just as disgusting”

 

The anger had hardly dissipated in Shizuo’s mind and Izaya’s nonchalant expression was all it took to throw him off his jittery balance again. Last night’s memories were still very vivid in his mind, but if anything he felt played and a complete idiot for falling for yet another game; the lousy flea was standing there like nothing had ever happened, taunting him as always. That bastard needed no help; he needed someone to knock some respect into him. So he just stomped over to him, blind to the way Izaya’s whole body tensed up, and grabbed him by the shirt… only to let go of him a mere moment later, anger and irritation gone in a blink, concern having taken their place.

 

“This is not dry!”

 

Izaya almost sighed in relief, but the obvious concern in the beast’s voice was unwelcome.

 

“Insightful, aren’t you?” He tried to wriggle out of the blond’s grasp, but the idiot just held on tighter, patting the black trousers with his free hand.

 

“You can’t leave wearing those, they’re still damp.”

 

“Well, I’m not wasting another moment here, so let go of me!”

 

Shizuo obeyed, if somewhat reluctantly, and let Izaya put a comfortable distance between them.

 

“You can wear the clothes I lent you”

 

But Izaya was already stepping into his shoes and picking his coat up form the coat hanger. He wished he could stop him, but he somehow felt that he didn’t have the right to care about that damned flea.

 

“As if I’d walk around Ikebukuro wearing a beast’s skin! What would people think?!” he faked a scandalized gasp buttoning up his just as damp as his clothes coat.

 

“If you’re so damned worried about what people will think, why don’t you just stay out of Ikebukuro altogether?” It was a growl he wished he could swallow and choke on, but there it was, it had been said already. Izaya, however, seemed more amused rather than offended, his trademark smirk spreading on his face as he reached for the doorknob.

 

“Who knows, perhaps I will finally take your advise and stay clear of the area.”

 

He took a theatrical bow before shutting the door behind him and Shizuo felt a grin spread on his face and laughter pour out of him slowly. Perhaps it was corny to think that they had their own code of communication, but he could swear that the words they had just exchanged sounded like an invitation and a gleeful acceptance to him.


	37. Be mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is such a twisted, sick thing, isn’t it? Ask anyone in the street and they will tell you it’s the purest, the most beautiful feeling... But we know better, you and I, don’t we?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, a new chapter, so soon! Don't get used to it, because it might never happen again to have two new chapters in just one week O.O  
> I wanted to see a bit of Namie, so here she is.  
> This is another short(ish), uneventful chapter, but I hope you like it all the same. :)

“Are you out of your mind?” Shinra hardly ever raised his voice, but Shizuo could still hear the exasperation in his steely tone. Making the doctor angry was a hard task, which however he seemed to have mastered lately. “Did you hear anything of what I told you about him?” The irritating voice on the other end of the call had been going on a rant for a few minutes now, so Shizuo concluded that this was just another rhetorical question, merely for dramatic effect. “ **Did you?!** ” Ok, so perhaps he was wrong.

 

“I heard you alright. I don’t know what you’re so crossed about.”

 

“Are you seriously that thick?” Shizuo’s threat was lost in the rest of the doctor’s rant. “You do not push a man suffering from posttraumatic stress to the limits, especially not when he’s caught in the middle of a panic attack! You give him time and space to calm down and feel safe. I specifically told you not to touch him, under any circumstances!”

 

 _And this had almost started as a good morning,_ Shizuo was toeing the splinters on the floor from his seat on the couch. He hadn’t even had the time to clean up the mess he’d made; Shinra had called almost immediately after Izaya had showed himself out, as if the damned doctor had been watching them. “You told me that holding him throughout these panic attacks helps.”

 

“ **Not you, Shizuo! You are the reason he gets them in the first place, how are you supposed to make him feel better?** ” Great, he’d managed to make the man shout in less than five minutes. That was a new record.

 

“Look, I understand that you think I made the wrong call, but the facts are that he slept through the whole night and he’s now on his way home, unharmed, healthy and well-rested. I don’t see what the problem is.”

 

“You’re not the brightest spark in the box, that’s why you don’t see it!”

 

What most people didn’t understand – what Shizuo wondered if even Izaya himself understood – was that Ikebukuro’s monster was really just an ordinary man with a very short fuse. It’s not like he wanted to wreck havoc in his way – he didn’t hate humans like some thought. He was a peaceful man, who wanted nothing but a peaceful life. But there was something wrong with his temper, some factory defect so to speak; one wrong word, a smug comment or a taunting smirk and he saw red. It was that simple. He couldn’t control it - and it wasn’t out of lack of effort or will; it was one of those things that were simply impossible. The coffee table having turned to a pile of wood on his floor, he had to keep the ashtray – plastic, he had learned his lesson through the years – on his lap to smoke. It went through the kitchen window, opposite to where he was sitting and flew across the street to bounce on the building that stood there and land on the head of an unfortunate passerby who fell flat on his face. Shizuo heard the screams from the street and jumped to his feet, his cigarette crashed in the palm of his hand.

 

_Kill kill kill kill kill kill killkillkillkillkillkillkill…_

“Did you just call me stupid?” Shinra shivered at the other end of the call. He should have known better than to insult Ikebukuro’s monster, even from a distance.

 

“It was just a matter of speech! I was joking! Calm down now, there’s no reason why we should ruin our friendship over a few words!” He was actually backing away in his kitchen, his free hand raised placatingly.

 

“ _Friendship?_ You are _his_ friend, not mine, you’ve made that very clear.” How had Izaya called it? Trenching his living room, was that it? Well, he was doing it again and it was proving just as unsuccessful. He wanted to get his hands on that annoying four-eyed creature and smash his face in the wall until his blood had stopped boiling.

 

“Big words, Shizuo, big words. You know I didn’t mean that!”

 

“You’re a scumbag, just like your friend! I’m gonna get there and shove your stupid glasses down your throat if you ever call me stupid again, get it?”

 

“Well, using the word stupid twice in a sentence isn’t very clever-”

 

“ **Shinra!** ”

 

“Alright, alright! Let’s calm down now, you don’t want to come over here and upset Celty!”

 

 _Celty…_ Celty was his weak point, his closest friend, the one person apart from Kasuka whom he never could get angry at. He would never forgive himself if he ended up hurting her. Her name had the effect of a tranquillizer on his temper; it died away almost instantly. He sat back down on the couch and stared at the crushed cigarette in his palm.

 

“You owe me an ashtray.”

 

*

 

Izaya didn’t bother buy coffee on his way to the station like the beast had suggested; he knew just where he could get the perfect coffee, served with just the right amount of disdain and cutting remarks.

 

“Honey, I’m home!” In another life he could have kept this woman as a personal pet. Another life altogether for both of them. Namie didn’t even look up from whatever she was typing.

 

“I had the secret hope that you had been brutally murdered and that was why you didn’t sleep in your bed last night.”

 

“Oh, did Namie-san check? I always knew that deep down you cared about me!”

 

“There were no clever notes on my desk, no vulgar wallpapers on my desktop and no abandoned cups of coffee around the office. It was the obvious deduction.”

 

If he didn’t enjoy her presence so much, Izaya would be constantly terrified at how well this woman knew him. He walked over to her desk and caught a long strand of silky black hair in his fingers, elegantly pushing it behind her ear.

 

“Why don’t you make your lovely employer a cup of coffee? To show your gratitude?” Lips set in a straight line, eyes boring into him with obvious indifference, Namie never cared to hide her feelings. He could tell just by looking at her that she detested his hands on her, that she didn’t feel an ounce of gratitude, never had, never would, and could hardly care to acknowledge the reasons why any other – any normal – human being would feel that way. And he couldn’t get enough of her for that exact reason. Izaya knew by experience that everyone tried to hide something, even when there was absolutely no reason for it. He was intrigued by people’s lies and secrets, he felt the inexplicable urge to dig them up, reveal them to the world. And once his mission was accomplished, he just lost interest. Perhaps he would watch them as they tried to put themselves back together again – _if_ they tried to put themselves back together again – and perhaps he would try and break them yet again once they had succeeded. But that was as far as his interest in them went. Namie was a different story. She knew who she was and was happy to let everyone else know as well. She didn’t fear Izaya one bit; if anything, she treated him like a willful child. But she still stayed by his side, and as much as she claimed that she just needed the job and couldn’t find anything better after the Yagiri Pharmaceuticals fiasco, Izaya couldn’t help but feel that she was somewhat glad for the way things had evolved, even if she didn’t realize it herself. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. He watched her as she poured his coffee, but instead of bringing it to him, she just stood there staring at it. “Is there a problem?” Her eyes glanced up at him and she noticed the way he was leaning against her desk, one hip perched upon the edge of the furniture, arms crossed in front of his chest.

 

“I was just wondering where I’ve put the rat poison.” Ignoring his snort and shrugging like she couldn’t remember, she walked back to her desk, handing the cup to the grown up child who was currently paying her salary. “It looks like you will live through this day after all.”

 

The cup was warm in his hands and he inhaled the heavy scent of the black liquid before taking a sip. “Do not despair, the day is still young!” Namie had resumed her position behind the desk, her fingers flying over the keyboard like she had never stopped. “Remind me again; why do I pay you?” She never fell for such a cheap trick, but Izaya enjoyed hearing her spiteful responses nonetheless. _Maybe Shinra is right and I am a masochist after all._

“You pay me to do the job you never do yourself since you are too busy playing around like the big toddler you are.”

 

 _Yes, a masochist indeed!_ She was such a charming sight, her legs crossed, her hair falling on the side, face focused on her screen, her back always straight no matter how long she had to stay on her desk, working on her computer. _Such an obnoxious lovable human._

“I don’t really require your services though, do I? You can’t trap a common thug, weave networks of spies and informers, orchestrate gang wars or play the Yakuza. I do that all by myself!”

 

“You dig up useless amounts of information yourself, you meet the scum of this city yourself, but you need me to screen through all the pile of garbage you collect, discern and file the useful pieces of information, catalogue them, and contact all the people whose voices you can’t stand hearing.” Even her voice held that condescending tone most people reserve for annoying children or idiots. Everyone was an idiot for her. Izaya waved a hand in the air to dismiss the thought that she was indeed very unique to him; there was no such thing, all humans were just as important to a god.

 

“It’s nice that you can make up excuses for yourself, but, again, I don’t really need you to do any of this; I don’t need files, I remember everything!” He flicked the two middle fingers of his right hand against his temple to make a point, feeling the corners of his lips turn upwards as he watched her lift her head to look at him.

 

“And yet you keep forgetting to keep your ass off my desk”, the point of her pen dug into his thigh, the one that was resting on her desk. Izaya raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his coffee before putting the cup down on the furniture.

 

“I paid for this desk. I paid for the keyboard you’re typing on, the screen you’re looking at, even for the pen you’re poking my thigh with!” That was always a good call; to remind her that she had gone from head of a company to employee of a man she didn’t even like. Without another word she pushed her chair back, threw her mobile and her notebook into her bag and circled around the desk to where Izaya was, expression cool as ice.

 

“Then go ahead and take them.”

 

He had always been fascinated by her. She fed the worst part of him, that insolent child who loved to turn the world upside down only to receive the wrath of his parents. But she never gave him that much; she hardly ever got angry. Or maybe it was the fact that she was in a constant state of anger and bitterness that made it so hard for anyone to make her lose her temper. Izaya loved watching her, reading her, pushing her buttons to see her reactions. She was an open book and that made her impossible to read. _Almost like Shizu-chan._ There was no doubt that she was smarter than the average human being, ruthless and raised to believe that the world belonged to her. Raise a child like that and then snatch it all out of her hands and see where that takes you. Namie knew no boundaries, had no respect for social etiquette and saw everyone around her as lab rats; everyone but her dear little brother. Izaya could almost see a resemblance there. Almost. He grabbed her by the arm before she could walk away and held her there, at arm’s length. She didn’t try to pull her arm away, didn’t shout, curse or threaten him. She just watched him with the same cool expression, boredom and disdain written all over her face.

 

“Such a beautiful woman”, he let his gaze trail all the way down to her legs, feeling her disgust at the fact that he was checking her out that way. There was no better pastime than pushing people’s buttons. “Do men usually buy you presents and invite you out for dinner?” Her eyes had turned to dark slits and Izaya chuckled amusedly. “But you don’t care for such things, do you? You only have eyes for that empty-headed brat”. Yes, a little tug, not forceful enough for her to break away, but strong enough for him to get the message and shut up. Such a shame that he never did what people asked of him. “You do everything for him and how does he repay you? He falls in love with a dead, severed head! How ungrateful!” Another tug, stronger than the previous one, followed by a threat; a proper dance!

 

“I may not be the head of Yagiri Pharmaceuticals anymore, but I can still arrange for a special experiment with you as the test object.”

 

She could be dangerous when she wanted to, Izaya had known this from the very beginning, but it never stopped amusing him. Her threats were never empty, he was well aware of the fact that she could and would make them happen if he gave her a good enough reason. This was partly why he had offered her a job to begin with. Her arm was tense in his grasp and he had the feeling that at moments like this she truly hated him. All the more reason to pull her close and squeeze a little harder.

 

“But you insist on doing everything for him. You talked a stalker into having a plastic surgery to look like the head he claims to love, just to give him the chance to live that stupid fantasy. I wonder; did you think he would grow tired of her? Did you think his passion would die down and then he’d come crawling back to his big sister so she could lick the wounds and kiss the pain away?”

 

For a moment it looked like she would lash out at him, but she regained her composure almost instantly. When she tried to pull her arm out of his grasp, Izaya let her do so, convinced that she wasn’t going to walk away before she had won this dual; after all, she didn’t even put some distance between them, but just stood there staring at him.

 

“You claim to love all humans, but you don’t understand a thing about love, do you?”

 

“Enlighten me!” She would love to punch that smug face, but had no doubt that the freak would probably enjoy that. There were better ways to defeat the informant.

 

“There was no ulterior motive. I wanted him to be happy.” She watched his eyes scrutinize her for a few moments and offered him a tight triumphant smile as he finally took a couple of steps away from her. She had won this round and it had only taken her two short sentences. He really did know nothing about love. If he wasn’t so indifferent to her, she might have even felt sorry for him.

 

“So you ruined a young girl’s life, caused a certain dullahan a panic attack and built a nightmarish fairy tale for your little brother…out of love?” He didn’t need an answer, it had already been given. Namie watched him walk over to the coffee table and pick up a piece from his Go board. Despite his obsession with that one-man game which no one knew the rules to but him, he hadn’t touched it in a long long time. So Namie felt certain that something had changed. She never understood how the game was played, but she had guessed early on that the pieces resembled real people. And Izaya was now holding one of them in his hands, slowly twisting the piece in his fingers and smirking wickedly at whoever it was supposed to stand for. “Love is such a twisted, sick thing, isn’t it? Ask anyone in the street and they will tell you it’s the purest, the most beautiful feeling. They will say love is altruistic and inspiring. They might even claim that it brings the best out of people.” The man who turned to flash a knowing smile at her had been gone for a while. She hadn’t seen the nasty expression in quite some time, the way his eyes gleamed and his smile cut like a razor, and even though she would never say it out loud, she preferred him to the sulky creature that had recently taken his place. At least this Izaya didn’t need anyone to pick him up from the depths of depression. He needed someone to occasionally pull the pedestal under his feet, and she was much more suited to that part. “But we know better, you and I, don’t we?” He squeezed the piece in the palm of his hand before throwing it in the air, catching it mid-fall and setting it back down on the board. “So, any interesting clients for me today?”

 

*

 

The evening was dark and gloomy, just the way Izaya liked it. Ikebukuro was lively as ever, streets flooded with all kinds of people, and he mingled with them for a while, watching his beloved humans and breathing in the city he loved. This was not just another random walk around the area, his little excursion had a very specific destination, but there was nothing wrong with drawing his stroll out as much as he could, enjoying the city life around him and letting his mind wander back to a night that seemed to have been deleted from his memory.

 

He had slept well the previous night, as a matter of fact it had been the best sleep he’d had in a very long time. Shizu-chan must have been holding him all night; he could remember being wrapped in so much warmth he felt like he was melting away. It puzzled him that the beast had chosen to do something like that, especially since it must have made it all the more difficult for him to get any proper rest. What was in it for him? But that was not the only thought puzzling him. He had had so many dreams that night, nightmares most of them, but not all of them. There was another dream, one that had tortured him at length after…well, _that_ night. He preferred not to think about that night anymore. He had promised himself to make the beast pay and he was going to make the beast pay, one way or another. Only he no longer knew what kind of revenge would allow him to spend his nights in the blond’s company, and even though he wouldn’t go as far as admitting it, he knew for a fact that he couldn’t imagine his life without the golden-eyed beast in it. But the dream, the nightmare – could he really call it that? – that had been torturing him for days and nights on end, making it impossible for him to get any rest, had returned that previous night. It was something the beast had said: “ _you asked me if I’d be yours that night…you were so drunk and beautiful…”_ He wished he could pretend that his first reaction was _what night_ , but the words awoke a memory he didn’t even know was there. He had heard himself speaking those words, in one or more of those tortured dreams, back when his body was still healing, still black and blue from the special treatment of the man who had the nerve to state that he had been his long before Izaya had even asked. He had heard the words and he had seen Shizuo smiling at him like he actually cared, he had seen his fingertips touching the ceiling and Shizuo’s eyes shining like a cat’s in the dark, impossibly close and impossibly gentle. And now it all made sense. _Drunk,_ Shizuo said. Izaya was never drunk. He didn’t necessarily dislike alcohol, as a matter of fact he appreciated the bitter aftertaste and the burning sensation it left on his mouth and throat, but he detested the way it interfered with his judgment. He had indeed visited the beast while drunk a few months ago. And his mind had conveniently deleted the whole night by the first light of the day. His fear back then had been that he had somehow revealed his plans about gaining enough power to run the city if he so wished, but it seemed that it was an entirely different plan that he had compromised. _But you said you were already mine, so I was not the only one compromised that night, was I, Shizu-chan?_

It was late enough when he finally made it to the rundown building where his beast lived. The neighborhood had started feeling too familiar for his own comfort, but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind and walked into the building and up the stairs – he needed the exercise, he was already planning his exercise schedule, his body had grown weak and he needed to make up for all the wasted time. Shizuo had been expecting him. He had been sitting there, on the couch, with a piece of foil serving as an ashtray and a cigarette (or one cigarette after another) trapped between his lips, and counting the moments until he heard the knock on the door. He had interpreted Izaya’s smirk that morning as proof that he would be back very soon, but as the hours passed he had started worrying that perhaps he was wrong, perhaps the louse would truly stay clear of the area this time. When the knock finally came he jumped up like he’d been hit by lightning, knocking the self-made ashtray off his lap and spilling its contents all over himself, the couch and the floor. He cursed under his breath and made a mental note to himself to murder both the flea and the doctor first chance he got. But only after he had treated the lousy informant to a nice cooked meal and had held him in his arms for a while. He was honest enough to admit that he needed his fix, but after that was settled, he was going to murder that insect for real.

 

Or maybe not.

 

Izaya was leaning against the wall in the hallway, opposite the door to Shizuo’s flat, his coat unbuttoned, his head cocked to the side, his trademark smirk in place. Shizuo eyed him suspiciously; he had an air of mischief and stank of trouble.

 

“I never said that.” He didn’t look up saying that, his eyes were fixed somewhere down the hall. Shizuo had no doubt that he was avoiding eye contact on purpose, just to piss him off.

 

“I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but it wasn’t me. Haven’t seen you since this morning.”

 

_That’s it; look at me when I speak, louse._

“You mean you couldn’t hear my voice in your head all day? How disappointing! And I thought we had a bond the two of us!” It hit him right at that moment that he would never be able to trust the informant; he’d never be able to tell the lies from the truth, because there was hardly any line between the two in Izaya’s mind. Shizuo couldn’t help but wonder how many people, men and women, had fallen for this overly suave voice and the taunting words that surely many had hoped were true. Izaya seemed to read his mind process and he smiled satisfied. “I never asked you to be mine. Why would I? I wanted you dead, not a burden on my back.”

 

Perhaps he could skip dinner and murder him right there. He could hold him when he was dead and quiet, that could work. _He’s bluffing. He’s playing. That’s all this is, a game. And I can beat him to it._ “You were drunk – couldn’t remember a thing in the morning. You jumped me, sucked me dry and insisted on riding me until the morning light, and then you accused me of taking advantage of you. Remember that?” Perhaps he wasn’t the brightest spark in the box as Shinra had put it, but he always knew how to pull Izaya’s strings. Clearly, he was asking for it, but there was no denying that that hard look on the flea’s face and the sharp smile on those thin lips made his blood thrum.

 

“I never drink.” It was a challenge; Izaya was dancing around him even if he hadn’t moved from his spot against the wall. _Find a weakness,_ the challenge was saying, _and we can dance together._ Shizuo took a drag from his cigarette and studied him for a moment.

 

“That’s true, they all say you never drink.” Izaya nodded and urged him on with a cheeky smile. “Now that I think about it, you were almost human that night; honest and handsome and vulnerable…I could have fallen for you, right there.” There was no way of knowing whether the wide grin that spread over the pale face opposite him was a sign of triumph or recognition. But maybe assuming that Izaya knew where this was going was stretching it, even for someone as clever as him. “Too good to be true. Who knows, maybe I dreamt it after all.” Shrugging casually, Shizuo walked back in his living room to put his cigarette out in that damned piece of foil. “Are you coming inside?” There was a long silence that forced him to turn around and make sure that Izaya was still there. The grin on his face was still intact, but there was an edge to it now.

 

“I don’t think I can take another evening in your stinky den.”

 

Was it that easy to insult the man who spent his days pulling the strings of every criminal organization out there? Somehow Shizuo doubted it. Another game then?

 

“So I have to sleep in a bed that stinks just like you, but you can’t stand to be in my flat for the second night in a row?”

 

“Could Shizu-chan smell my scent all day?”

 

“I could smell your stench.”

 

Shizuo had walked back to the door, hands resting on the door frame on either side of his body, eyes curiously watching the skinny figure opposite him. Izaya didn’t seem irritated, but it was now becoming obvious that he never had any intention of entering the flat. This was more of a test, and whatever it was that he was looking for, he still hadn’t found it. His long coat twirled around his legs as he slowly strode the couple of steps that stood between him and his beast and brought his hands up to comb them through dyed blond hair. Shizuo barely managed to fight back the urge to shut his eyes and purr at the touch. Izaya was close, too close, his spicy scent strong, causing Shizuo’s mouth to water, his fiery eyes burning him with their intensity, his breath ghosting against his neck and those fingers buried deep in his hair and firmly caressing his skull felt like silk. They were weaving circles in the blond locks and Shizuo hummed appreciatively. He could fall in love with this man. But he was already in love with him, wasn’t he? Perhaps he could avoid murdering him then. If only they stayed like this a little longer.

 

“Your hair is rough from all the years dying them.” Izaya’s breath was warm against tanned skin, like a caress, gentle and comforting, everything that the man himself wasn’t. “I’ve never seen your natural color – hands off!” Shizuo had been carried away by the enticing sensation of warm breath against his skin and had brought his hands up to touch the face of the man who was rendering him weak with no more than a touch of his fingers. _So I’m still not allowed to touch you without your permission._ He let his hands fall to his sides and locked eyes with Izaya who was smiling wickedly. “I wonder what you’d look like as a brunette. Would you be as handsome as sweet Kasuka?” The flash of anger in Shizuo’s eyes disappeared instantly as thin lips pressed lightly against his jaw. _I still know how to pull your strings, Shizu-chan. I light the match that sets you ablaze and then kiss it all away. I could live with that._ “When?” The beast was lost for a moment, his ability to think straight completely trampled by now.

 

“When what?”

 

“When did you decide that you were mine?” A deep breath and Shizuo was staring right into his eyes.

 

“You know when.”

 

Did he? He’d thought about it a lot – he’d been thinking about it all day – but couldn’t come up with any satisfying answers. He did have a thought, though…

 

“The moment I walked through this door?” It was obviously the wrong guess, but it earned him a chuckle. Shizuo was mocking him for his complacency.

 

“Close enough, but no.” He could have just revealed the answer without any further delay, but he loved the look of concentration on Izaya’s face. The mighty informant hated not understanding one of his lovely humans. But then again, Shizuo was not human, right? “It was the moment you said something true for a change. The first honest thing you ever said to me.” Brow creased and eyes squinted, Izaya was going through that night, looking for whatever the beast could have interpreted as honest. _What could it be, what could it be…_ And then it hit him, Shizuo could tell by the spark in his eyes. “All you had to do to gain my trust was admit that you didn’t deserve it.” He had always thought that it was too obvious, too predictable, and yet Izaya seemed truly surprised, like it had never crossed his mind that a certain beast could ever connect the dots in such a way. The stunned expression on his face was soon replaced by one of mirth and he laughed out loud pulling his hands away and burying them in his pockets.

 

“You’re such a romantic, Shizu-chan!” Taking a couple of steps back he took a bow, one of those deep, theatrical bows of his, and mumbled “see you around” before turning on his heels.

 

“You’re not staying?” Izaya told himself it was the unveiled disappointment in the other’s tone that stopped him and not the fact that he was actually tempted to stay – he was not. He spared a glance over his shoulder; the beast looked truly dissatisfied.

 

“I said see you around, Shizu-chan.” Another step and the beast was calling after him.

 

“When?”

 

He stopped once again. _You’re ruining me, Shizu-chan._ He turned around this time to look at him, but couldn’t come up with any words. If he asked once again, he would probably walk straight into that tiny flat and curl up in the couch next to his beast. But it was too soon for that and Shizuo couldn’t be allowed to win this round. The blond completely misunderstood his stance and exhaled loudly, defeated.

 

“Come around tomorrow, I’ll cook something you like.” An invitation. A date, perhaps. Not really, though – could you call it a date when they had been having sex together for so long? Maybe a date is not really about sex though, just an acknowledgement of the fact that you care to know the other, to spend time with them. Izaya had been in a few dates, but was always playing a part; he had never truly cared about anyone.

 

“You don’t even know what I like.” Shizuo considered this a win and shrugged with a smile.

 

“Consider it a challenge then. Come over and see how good my guess is.”

 

Shinra would be his source of information, Izaya had no doubt. Even though it annoyed him that the doctor would yet again snoop in his personal life, he was too intrigued by the fact that Shizuo was willing to be so open about his wish to spend another night with him to let the opportunity pass. He chuckled and turned on his heels again, waving goodbye as he walked to the staircase.

 

“It’s a date then!”

 

He couldn’t see the way Shizuo’s face lit up at those words, but he could swear he felt a warmth wash over him.


	38. Micro cuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You think you’ve found my weakness, Shiki-san, but you are wrong; I don’t have any weaknesses!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter, at last! Happy New Year, everyone! I hope you are all well!  
> Btw, I haven't checked this chapter for typos and other stupid mistakes, sorry :/

Izaya did his best to pretend that this was a day just like any other. In Namie’s opinion, he failed miserably. She could not tell what was wrong with him, but it was clear beyond any doubt that he was not himself that day. Not only was he still around when she arrived at work (to be fair, this had become a routine – an _irksome_ routine – for the past few weeks, with only a handful of exceptions to the new rule) but he actually stayed in the office with her _all day_! Such a nuisance! If he had at least been focused on doing his share of the work instead of tapping his fingers on the surface of his desk, humming out of tune and pacing up and down chuckling to himself, she might have found it in her to be glad. But when did the lousy fool did anything right? She almost missed the days when he’d stay locked up in his bedroom for hours on end, even if they went hand in hand with the pitiful moping about whenever he’d emerge from his chambers, _his highness!_

Her scornful snort didn’t go unnoticed and before she knew it Izaya was looming over her with an inquisitive look. “Is the report you’re typing so amusing?” Seeing as she didn’t even look up to acknowledge his presence, Izaya walked away with an indifferent shrug. “Perhaps I should give you more work to keep you occupied. I’m not paying you to daydream.”

“Do your clients pay _you_ to daydream?” It wasn’t hard to read into her question, she was being anything but evasive, yet Izaya appreciated the counter attack all the same. His mind was the greatest battlefield of all, but even that way it sometimes got lonely – not lonely in the sense of _lonely,_ just boring, not challenging enough – and at those times he appreciated having someone to bounce insults off.

“I do not _daydream,_ my poor, simple assistant” his smirk widened at the narrowing of her eyes. “I _think_. My clients pay me to observe and _think_. It allows them to continue their lives and their business in the certainty that if anything goes wrong, someone else will take the blame; after all, they were not the ones doing the thinking!”

It was partly true. Many people came to him with theories and fears, asking him to prove them, asking him to take the blame in advance for whatever wrong they would be forced to do in response to the confirmation of their fears. There were other kinds of clients, of course. The ones that simply required information they were incapable of obtaining themselves (Izaya was always infinitely amused at the fact that what was like a walk in the park for him could be truly bewildering for his simple humans), those who wished to use him as an asset to their war with whatever adversary, employing his services before someone from the other side had the same idea (Izaya of course made a point of always working with both sides and twisting the situation to his benefit) _and then there is always the one client who is on to me and is simply testing me with every new job_ , Izaya thought to himself as he picked up from his desk the mobile that was ringing, Shiki’s name displayed on the screen. _Speak of the devil!_

“Shiki-san, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Namie had gone back to the report she was typing, her fingers tapping swiftly on her keyboard, but Izaya could sense her amusement at his amiable tone. The voice on the other end of the call was asking to know if he was feeling better after having to deal with those personal matters of his. “Kind of you to ask”, he could almost taste the bitterness in his mouth, but he forced a smile on his lips anyway – politeness was audible through the phone. “My personal matters, however, do not influence my work; I am always at your services.” He didn’t like what he heard next, but managed to hide his dread and irritation behind a compliant “ _as you wish_ ”.

It was only after he placed the mobile down on his desk again that he realized that Shiki hadn’t asked him to get rid of Namie before he arrived. Could it be that he had forgotten about her? It didn’t seem very probable, since Shiki was perhaps the most cautious man he knew. Maybe it was just business that he wanted to discuss after all, even though that didn’t seem very probable either; Shiki always preferred to have Izaya summoned to his own headquarters and would scarcely visit the informant’s office in Shinjuku. There wasn’t enough time to try and work out the man’s motives though; Shiki _had_ claimed to be in the area and very close to the office over the phone. Izaya let Namie open the door, while he walked over to his desk and took a seat, pretending to be busy with whatever was happening on his computer screen – which was nothing, as his computer had been turned on that morning but scarcely used. He glanced over at the time, just to note that he still had a couple of hours before his _date_ with Ikebukuro’s strongest, and looked up just in time to greet his most important client who walked in with that ever-present scowl on his face.

“When you said you were near, I didn’t realize you meant right in front of the building, Shiki-san!” The yakuza executive was unamused by the comment. He handed his coat to Namie, who took it with a nod, and settled down on the couch opposite Izaya’s desk with an air that said he was not in the mood for banter. He had walked into the office alone, which was enough to pique Izaya’s interest and make him wonder whether perhaps he should have sent Namie away. Instead of inquiring about his men though, Izaya simply got up from his chair and walked over to the couch, choosing to stand a few feet away from Shiki who had drawn out a cigarette and was about to light it with his expensive silver lighter.

“Do you mind?”

So this was just another test. There was no way of predicting what kind of effect the scent of smoke would have on him this time, Izaya knew, but he was not prepared to lose this round before it had even started. So he smiled amiably and offered a nonchalant ‘ _of course not, please make yourself comfortable’_ before pouring a cup of tea for his client – not that he was suddenly overcome with the desire to be a good host, only walking over to the coffee counter meant he could put some distance between himself and the thin streak of smoke that emerged from the lit end of the cigarette. He inhaled deeply before walking back towards the couch to place the steaming cup of tea on the coffee table in front of Shiki; the smoke caused him nothing more than a light shudder.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” He refrained from sitting down, even then, but rather paced slowly around the couch facing the yakuza member and crossed his arms casually in front of his chest. It was no coincidence that Shiki had showed up that evening, and even though Izaya would like to entertain the notion that there was no link between this unexpected visit and his own visits to Shizuo twice in the previous two days as well as his planned visit this very evening, his skin still crawled at the way Shiki’s eyes bore into him with cold severity.

“I have a job for you.”

Izaya waited patiently for a few moments, but it didn’t seem like he was going to be offered any details about the job he was expected to do. Shiki was watching him with his usual solemnity, but there was also a menacing air about him that was not to be taken lightly. It was probably in his best interest that he played this game as cautiously as possible, so he nodded in acknowledgment of the information and kept the smirk on his face in check – there was nothing to be gained from giving the man the impression that he was mocking him.

“What is it that I can do for you then?”

If there was an expert at causing people unease, Izaya liked to believe that it was no one but him; Izaya Orihara. Occasionally though, Shiki would take it upon himself to prove the informant wrong. He smoked his cigarette silently, eyes locked with Izaya’s, no sound echoing in the office but Namie’s fingers tapping on her keyboard like she was completely unaware of what was going on not far from where she was seated. The seconds dragged on and Izaya felt more and more weary with every deep inhale of smoke Shiki would take, a terrible suspicion creeping up to him and settling like dead weight on his shoudlers. When Shiki finally looked away to lean forward and crush his cigarette butt in the ashtray in front of him, Izaya realized that he had been breathing as little as possible in all that time. He turned around and paced back to his desk, gulping down greedy breaths as discreetly as his oxygen-deprived lungs allowed him to, and was about to point out that his time was worth too much to be wasted in smoke-filled silence when he heard the man speak again.

“You will receive all the necessary details about the job when the time comes. For now, I just wanted to make sure that you are feeling better and are capable of going back to work.”

Namie hadn’t lifted her head from her work ever since she’d resumed her position behind her desk, but Izaya could tell that she was typing much more slowly than usual. He couldn’t really blame her for listening in on the conversation (as poor as it had been so far), but the fact that she was witnessing his distress over nothing more than prolonged silence enraged him all the same. He glanced at her direction to confirm his guess (she was indeed watching him from the corner of her eye, but the possibility of her simply keeping an eye on him to make sure she’d be in a position to help if he needed her to never crossed his mind) before turning around to face Shiki again, with chilling hostility this time for no one was allowed to make assumptions about him, not in his own space.

“I have been feeling perfectly fine for as long as I can remember myself, but I thank you for your interest nonetheless. I don’t know what made you think that I might not be in a position to work, but I can assure you that whatever job you have for me will be carried out without any problems. Now, if that was all, you will excuse me but this happens to be a very busy evening.”

“I am still waiting for your answer.”

Fully aware of the fact that Namie had paused her work and was directly watching the two men as the distance between them closed, Shiki standing up and taking one steady step after another until he was at arm’s length from her employer, Izaya chuckled humorlessly, refusing to pretend that he did not understand what the other was referring to.

“I didn’t realize I had the luxury of a choice” and it was true, he had been certain that there was only one acceptable reaction to what he had been asked to do last time Shiki had visited him in his office.

“Our cooperation is based on mutual respect” - the shadow of a smirk on his lips made Izaya’s stomach twist with resentment - “of course you have a choice.”

“I either give up what’s mine or I end up dead.” What started as a defiant smirk on turned thin and white with tension lips blurred into flames flickering with bitterness in his eyes and his opponent was sure to notice, but Izaya could hardly care.

“I never said it was an easy choice.” After holding the informant’s look for a moment, Shiki finally took a step back and walked around him to go stand next to the window and stare at the traffic in the street in front of the building. The temperature in the room had suddenly dropped a few degrees, or at least that was what Izaya thought as his skin shivered over muscles taut with tension, but he was glad to be given some space - he would have breathed in relief if his chest wasn’t feeling so constricted. Namie spared him a wary glance before turning to her screen again. “I asked you about your relationship with him last time I was here-”

“And I replied to all your questions” Izaya was quick to finish that sentence himself, before Shiki could mention the name that ‘ _him’_ was referring to. The reason for that wasn’t hard for someone as intuitive as the yakuza executive to guess and he made a point of letting Izaya know it by staring hard at his secretary’s raven head as he turned from the window. Then his gaze shifted to the informant himself and Izaya was met with cold, merciless grey, hard as steel.

“You’ve spent a lot of time in Ikebukuro these past couple of days.” Seeing that Izaya had swallowed his tongue, he went on with a pointed shrug. “You arrived at a certain shabby apartment block late in the evening the day before yesterday and didn’t leave before late the next morning. That’s a long time to spend in the company of a man you hate.”

Right at that moment, there was only one man that Izaya could claim to hate and he was standing not far from him. He was now certain that it was indeed no coincidence that Shiki hadn’t asked him to send Namie away; he had wanted witnesses to this little dual, just because he imagined that Izaya would feel even more defeated if someone was there to listen in on all this, and he was smart enough to conclude that someone close to the informant would be far more suitable for this part than a bunch of yakuza underlings. There was never a way to win this game, not on this level (Izaya insisted on telling himself that he could and would find a way to turn the tables eventually), but there was no reason why he couldn’t lose gracefully. So he plastered a cocky smirk over his face and tipped his head to the side playfully, leaning against his desk.

“You have informers watching the informant?! A bit…tacky, don’t you think?”

“You know me better than to think I’d trust your word on anything.”

“You wound me, Shiki-san”, palm flat against his chest in a mockery of hurt. Shiki studied him for a few moments before tapping a finger over his lips, gaze drifting away, somewhere out there in the city unfolding at the other side of the window.

“You do not want him to die, I understand that. I might even be willing to respect it.”

Even more than the feeling of being exposed, it was the fatherly tone that made Izaya wince and take a step back, as if to avoid a blow. He could feel Namie's eyes burning him, even though she was still typing like she couldn't care less about the act unfolding in front of her, but for once that burning embarassment was welcome; it anchored him to reality when the ground seemed to be shifting beneath his feet. This man did not understand. He had no right to pretend to understand, no right to pretend that he actually cared about all the things that he could not understand. Besides, Izaya had never said a thing about not wanting Shizuo to die. As far as the world was concerned, he had always wanted Shizuo dead and had done everything in his power to achieve this goal through the years – Shinra’s voice echoed in his mind, asking how come he hadn’t succeeded yet, if that was really what he wanted, but this was not the time to deal with the know-it-all doctor.

“I never said anything of the kind.”

Completely unaffected by the obvious turmoil in Izaya's mind, Shiki simply shook his head like an exasperated parent, enraging the informant even further; he was not a child, he did not need anyone’s understanding, or help for that matter, and he wouldn’t allow anyone to imply the opposite.

“I am giving you a choice here. You won’t get another chance, so I suggest you listen carefully to what I have to say and think hard before you give me an answer.” He watched Izaya swallow thickly and went on casually. “Heiwajima Shizuo is a very unique man. He has never been in our way before and, besides, he is well admired by many. Unfortunately, after what happened, he has to be punished in order to make an example for anyone who might dream of messing with the Awakusu-kai. You have been working with us for some time now, you know what happens to those who get in our way” after a meaningful pause, to which Izaya responded by refusing even to blink no matter how badly his eyes stung, he carried on. “But I believe we can make better use of a man like him; he would be an asset for the organization.”

It took Izaya a moment to react to that suggestion, not because he had difficulty understanding exactly what was suggested, but simply because it didn’t make sense; it was too easy. Eventually, he shook his head apologetically, like he was truly interested in helping Shiki with this. “Shizu-chan will never agree to work for you. Haven’t you heard? He hates violence!” The absurdity of that claim always made Izaya smile, but at that moment his face felt stiff like stone.

Shiki nodded, as if he had indeed thought about that little detail. “That’s true. And yet he brutally murdered a man with his bare hands…to protect you, it seems.”

The implication of that statement made Izaya laugh, even if the sound came strained and hollow. “You plan to threaten my life to force him to work for you?!” If Shiki was anything like the man Izaya believed him to be, he would never risk enraging Ikebukuro’s monster like that. “Good luck with that, but make sure you have a good escape plan!”

“He can die just like any other man; he _is_ human after all.” True enough, there were a few ways in which to kill a monster like Shizuo – one of them was a bullet, or a few of them, shot at the right parts of that strong but regretably human body, and the Awakusu-kai men liked to carry guns, as Izaya knew very well. “But you’re right, I don’t want bloodshed; it would draw troubling attention to the organization. After all, losing any number of our members in order to kill just one man would hardly prove our superiority. I can make better use of him alive, and to turn someone as fearful as Ikebukuro’s strongest would make the Awakusu-kai just as fearsome. This is why I need you to convince him that working for me is the best option for both of you.”

The plan was hopeless, Izaya knew and couldn’t help but wonder how Shiki could be fooled into believing that it was even an option. Shizuo would never listen to him no matter how hard he might be willing to convince him – after all, it wasn’t an entirely bad idea; with Shizuo as a member of the Awakusu-kai Izaya could have access to all kinds of information about the organization that Shiki would never share with him. Plus, he got to keep his favorite pet _alive_.

“He will never listen to me. Shizu-chan is not the kind to be talked into anything.”

However, Shiki seemed very confident about the outcome of his plan.

“I don’t care how you make it happen; talk him into it, threaten him into it or coax him into it” – _screw him into it, is what he means,_ Izaya noted with revulsion – “all I want is what I asked of you the first time: deliver him to me.”

Izaya’s mind went into overdrive with the possibilities: if he told the stupid protozoan that the Awakusu-kai was threatening him, the idiot wouldn’t listen to logic, he would go on a rampage, livid with blind rage. Asking him politely would hardly have a different effect; only the target of the beast’s blind rage would change and Izaya was not anxious to get his skull cracked again. Shizuo could not be reasoned with or coaxed into something so diametrically opposite to his stupid moral code. That was not to say that it was impossible, but simply that if Izaya were to succeed in persuading him to work for the yakuza, Shizuo would have to hate him first. And that was not a very appealing option.

“What’s in it for me?”

Shiki didn’t need to think about it, he seemed to have done his homework before showing up. “He gets to live.”

The vicious grin that stretched over Izaya’s lips never reached his eyes, making his expression all the more disturbing. “And why should I care whether he lives or dies?” Unamused by the informant’s antics, Shiki stared at those hollow reddish irises silently until his gaze burned them, forcing Izaya to look away, annoyed at himself for feeling so helpless under that look. “What’s the catch?”

The silence stretched on for so long that Izaya was forced to look up again. Shiki’s mask was a lot more rigid than his own and he envied him for it. He had always assumed that the man felt some kind of fatherly affection for him, even though their age difference wasn’t that big, but if that was true, then at times like this he made an excellent work of hiding it. Izaya wished he was as good at hiding his own feelings concerning this situation. He had always been an expert, but that was before; before he had realized that he actually had feelings. Shinra had often accused him of being a liar, at least as far as their blond and monstrously strong ex-classmate was concerned, but Izaya had always considered the man to be a sappy fool. How he had managed to remain blind to the truth for so long was a mystery even to him, but lately he couldn’t help but think that his illusions had kept him safe through the years. After they had all come tumbling down around him, life had become infinitely more complicated.

“Once he has agreed to work for me, you are never to see him again.” Izaya was deep in his thoughts, another mistake he couldn’t stop making these days, and almost jumped at the sound of Shiki’s voice. He could hardly pretend that he hadn’t heard the words, though, even if all he could offer in response was an apprehensive look. “I won’t have you snooping around, spying on the organization through him. And I will not allow you to manipulate him under my command. If you agree on this, you will never see him again. If you exchange so much as a nod, I will have both your heads, I promise you that.”

Izaya was familiar with the pain of a stab; the way it burned and spread over his skin crawling on his nerves before it exploded in pure agony. The feeling that numbed his mind for the next few moments felt much more painful. It was like a pang on his chest that reverberated through his bones, burning and freezing him at the same time, ripping through his flesh and paralyzing his thoughts. It was fear, the kind that not even Shizuo could ignite in him, and rage – a feeling he was unaccustomed to, to say the least. He only realized how small his voice sounded when he heard it, but it was too late to do anything about it by that time.

“You cannot make me do that.”

“I am not making you do anything; the choice is yours.”

 _Choice_?! What kind of a choice was that? Izaya was doomed whatever choice he made.

“You cannot touch him, Shiki-san. You will not _steal_ what’s mine.”

For the first time that evening, Shiki actually looked amused. Whether it was the actual words Izaya had spoken or the fact that the informant’s voice was shaking as bad as his hands, which were balled in fists so tight his nails were diggin into his palms, was hard to tell, but it might have been a safe guess to say that it was the combination of the two. Izaya Orihara shaking with rage was a rare sight and one to be relished.

“He is a free man, Izaya, he belongs to no one but himself.”

“He has a _debt_ to me and you cannot touch him until he has repaid me.” The words were coming out with increasing difficulty as his breath grew more and more shallow. His face was burning and he could only hope that he wasn’t turning red with anger, the way Shizuo would in response to one of Izaya’s smartass comments. The fact that Shiki could read him with such ease annoyed him to no end and with every passing moment he was more and more tempted to unleash the beast’s wrath against the whole of the Awakusu-kai. But that would only make things worse in the long run.

“I am willing to settle his debt myself, if you can work up the courage to put someone else’s life over your ego. Consider it a challenge, if you wish.” Shiki had the audacity to highlight his words with a half-smirk, as if they weren’t enough of a blow on their own. “Take a couple of days to think on it.”

As much as he loathed to admit defeat, Izaya couldn't let Shiki go, as that would equal acceptance of the terms of this negotiation – if it could even be called that. So when he saw him walk by him and head for the door he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I can’t do what you’re asking of me.” He didn’t have to elaborate, he knew, Shiki had stopped a few steps away from him and was looking straight into his eyes, reading every thought in Izaya’s chaos of a mind. Every hint of amusement had disappeared from the man’s grey eyes and when he finally spoke again, to offer an advice that was little appreciated, his voice had that fatherly tone again, the one that only intensified Izaya’s feeling of helplessness.

“You cannot afford to get sentimental in this line of work, Izaya.” He turned to leave without waiting for a response, but the condescending nature of the advice offered only enraged Izaya further. It was a desperate move, but he was past logic at that point and couldn’t care less about how obviously his actions contradicted his words.

“You think you’ve found my weakness, Shiki-san, but you are wrong; I don’t have any weaknesses!”

Shiki had almost reached the door, but stopped and turned to look at Izaya all the same. For a moment it looked as if he would turn around and walk away without dignifying that statement with a response, but eventually he retrieved his packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, inhaling deeply before putting the packet away again. He studied Izaya closely before speaking up, hands in his pockets and tone casually conversational, as if no threats had been delivered a few minutes ago.

“How old were you when you first came to me?”

If this was going to be a parable, Izaya simply had no patience for it.

“Old enough to make demands and get the yakuza to comply with them, evidently.”

Shiki ignored the sneering reply and went on in the same tone.

“You were still a schoolboy-”

“I had finished school.” This wasn’t entirely true, when he had first approached the Awakusu-kai Izaya was in his last year at school, but he didn’t like the way Shiki was trying to make a point with that information.

“You were still very young”, Shiki offered. “You could have gotten yourself killed trying to approach me, but you did it anyway. Many in the organization thought you were delusional or plain stupid, but you insisted on meeting me in person, so in the end it was up to me to decide how to deal with you.” He took a drag from his cigarette, eyes always locked with Izaya’s. “It was a stupid thing that you did; one word to the wrong person and you would have ended up with a bullet through your head” - another drag and a nod, more to himself than anyone else - “stupid and brave. I agreed to meet you because you managed to pique my interest and in the end you proved yourself worthy of my time; your information was good and solid. Even then, most of my men and even my higher-ups advised me against wasting my time with you. They told me to teach you a lesson and send you back to your mother crying, like the brat you were. But I decided to ignore them and give you a chance.”

“If it’s gratitude you’re looking for, I’m afraid I’ve run out for today.”

Shiki ignored him just like before, walking up to the coffee table and flicking the ash from his cigarette in the ashtray.

“I risked my own life by giving you a chance; if you had proven to be a spy or if your information was bad, we would both have been held responsible. They said I was crazy to risk my life for a brat-”

“But you were actually very brave, just like me!” His patience was running thin. He had no idea what he was supposed to make of this story or why Shiki had decided it would be a good idea to waste his time reminiscing about the past. He had been reckless back then, like many other times before that. Only he had been lucky with Shiki; the man had been the first one to trust him with a real job. It wasn’t entirely thanks to luck, he had done extensive research on him before asking to meet him in person and was confident by that time that the new executive of the Awakusu-kai would be more eager to take a risk than others. He had indeed been given his chance, he had proven himself worthy and they had been cooperating ever since. The rest was history – and it was best left untold. Shiki, however, seemed to disagree.

“I am not particularly brave. You were no threat to me, not so long as I knew how to pull your strings.” He paused for a moment to take the last long drag of smoke before crashing his cigarette in the ashtray. “I have known your weakness since I first heard of you, Izaya.”

He left with a polite nod to Namie, leaving Izaya confused and annoyed at his own confusion. When he glanced over at Namie he found her watching him knowingly, like she could read his mind.

“I could draft an extensive list myself, but if I had to pick one off the top of my head, taking that little anecdote into consideration, I’d have to say: _pride_. You would rather self-destruct than let anyone beat you at your own game.”

Izaya stared at her vacantly for a moment before walking over to the coffee table where his Go board was. His jaw hurt from how hard he was clenching his teeth but there was no way to fight the tension that had built up in his chest. There they were; all the pawns in this game that nobody knew the rules to – not even himself. He pulled the strings and chose the players, but he had no more control over the results than the pawns themselves. _Perhaps I should be a pawn on that_ _board myself._ A sweep of his hand sent them all rolling on the floor. Namie didn’t make any comments, but when she turned her computer off less than ten minutes later, she subtly suggested that they took the train to Ikebukuro together; she was done with her work for the day. Izaya saw no reason to refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going through a phase where I can't do anything without music - I alternate between not being able to suffer any kind of music at any time of the day because it all sounds like noise, and not being able to do a thing without it - so I thought I'd give you the 'soundtrack', let's say, of this chapter. I won't link you to videos, I'll just write the artist and title and you can look them up if you like.  
> Muse - Micro cuts  
> Subcarpați - Frunzuliță, iarbă deasă (cu Mădălina Pavăl și AFO)
> 
> I listen to all kinds of music; these two are probably a good example of how diverse my taste in music is. The first one gave this chapter its title, while the second one is just an obsession of mine for the past couple of months (according to google translate the lyrics have absolutely nothing to do with my story, but I just really love it!)


	39. Closer to the Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self-destruction, you say? I say triumph, I say freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to update until the second part of this chapter was ready, but I don't know when that might be and right now writing this was like much-needed therapy. So I'll just post it now and the rest will be a different chapter. Enjoy.

The trip to Ikebukuro was long and awkward – at least for Namie it was, for Izaya seemed to be so completely immersed in his own world that nothing could reach him. Her suggestion that they took the train together had been nothing but an attempt to verify what she had heard over in the office, but with every quiet moment that went between them she couldn’t help but feel glad that she was there by his side; he seemed like he needed a presence close to him, even if he hardly spoke a word throughout the journey. Perhaps that was exactly what was so eerily out of place in that picture; Izaya was never quiet, as a matter of fact, on a daily basis she would get to the point of having to threaten him into shutting his vile mouth in order to preserve her sanity. But the Izaya sitting next to her, with his hands limp on his lap and his gaze fixed on some invisible spot somewhere outside the window, had barely spoken a word since the moment Shiki had shown himself out of the office. Truth be told, she wasn’t the least surprised to hear that Izaya was dating Heiwajima Shizuo – well, it was Izaya and Ikebukuro’s monster they were talking about, so perhaps dating was the wrong term…sleeping with, perhaps…but that was just as tame, if only a little more to the point…the only term that could be associated with those two was _fucking;_ cold, rough, impersonal… She winced at the images that involuntarily filled her mind and chanced a glance at the uncharacteristically silent figure next to her. Anyone who had ever been fooled by Izaya’s pathetic attempts to persuade the world that he despised the blond loser whose only ‘skill’ was that he could effortlessly bring down walls with his bare feasts was … _naïve_ , to put it politely. But the way things had turned out, it seemed that Namie might have also been a bit naïve in thinking that her employer, the grown toddler with the horrible attitude, was incapable of loving. Knowing him as well as she did, she could never have imagined that he was capable of risking his work, his reputation, even his life to protect someone. But it seemed she was wrong. Even if he was having difficulty playing the game to the end, Izaya was clearly experiencing a severe inner conflict, and despite the fact that Namie couldn’t care less about his personal life or the dilemmas he was faced with, she couldn’t deny that this tiny information was already changing the way she looked at him. He seemed almost like a different person; shoulders sagged under that girly fur-trimmed coat, look sullen and lips set in a rigid straight line, he looked like a man who might as well be suffering – and one thing she knew for sure about her employer was that he _made_ people suffer, he was never the one suffering.

 

As they drew closer to Ikebukuro, she started wondering if she should say something. He wouldn’t listen, that much was certain, like he hadn’t listened to Shiki even though the man had taken the time to offer his valuable advice. There was no doubt as to the fact that, for whatever reason, Shiki had indeed crossed a boundary by offering Izaya a choice; the yakuza did not negotiate with anyone. However, gratitude was not one of the idiot’s strongest points. At some point she almost started telling him that Heiwajima is but one man in a city of millions, but the train reached a stop and people lined up to get off, and that’s when she noticed a flicker in his eyes for the first time ever since they’d left the office. Following his gaze, she came upon a youth with dyed blond hair and the implication of that golden head made her swallow her tongue. It was a good thing she did, she reasoned with herself when the train started moving again; if anyone had dared use the same line on her, she would have made sure they’d wake up immersed in an ice-cube bath and missing a few organs. But then again, Izaya was supposed to be the cynical one – they both were, really, but she’d have difficulty believing that there had ever been a greater cynic in the world than him – so he shouldn’t have difficulty accepting the truth of the saying ‘there’s more fish in the sea’. And yet the way his eyes lingered on that unimportant boy standing by the door said that perhaps she was being naïve once more.

 

They reached Ikebukuro and got off the train in perfect silence, Namie nervously glancing at Izaya’s direction every once in a while only to confirm that he was still staring vacantly at no one and nothing in particular, but when they walked out of the station she knew that she’d have to take her chances and say something before their ways separated.

 

“Why did you offer me a job?” The rusty gaze that met hers held nothing of the man’s usual sharpness, but only a speck of curiosity; after all, he wasn’t used to her starting small talk out of nowhere. “Was it just because you wanted the head? Or did you truly wish to employ my skills?” It was his cue for a jeering response, but Izaya was happy to let it pass unexploited – which was entirely out of character.

 

“Why did you accept it?”

 

So much for an attempt to normalcy. But this was also alright; she could jump straight to the advice and pray that he was going to listen for a change. “Does the mighty informant not know the answer to his question?” However, Izaya’s dismissive shrug told her that he wasn’t really interested in the conversation

 

“You had no better choice.”

 

“I could have persisted – I could have played the game to the end” _which is what you would have done;_ she kept the thought to herself. Izaya’s gaze had drifted to the side again, following random passersby, and his voice was so flat and monotonous that he might have been reciting the words from a book.

 

“If you had insisted on pursuing Mika Harima and performing experiments with the head, Nebula would have tracked you down and stopped you eventually. They would have taken the head away from you and you would have ended up either killed or locked up in prison for performing illegal human experiments. Either way, you would have ended up losing everything that matters to you, your little brother being the first on that list.”

 

The way he had his back half-turned to her, Namie felt like smacking the back of his head. Was he really blind to the glaring parallelism of that story compared to what he was going through at the moment? She didn’t realize that she had put on her patronizing tone, like she was talking to a witless child, but anyway that was exactly how she currently felt about him so it was no surprise that the feeling had colored her voice when she spoke up. “Exactly; I had nothing to gain.” She was not one to care much about telling stories, especially the kind with a personal touch and a moral, but Izaya already knew everything there was to know about her anyway, and however annoying the man was as an employer – or as a human being, even though she often doubted he really was one - she couldn’t help but feel the need to extend a helping hand. “My uncle always said that science is a field reigned by uncertainty. A scientist works with assumptions, dedicating his life in proving them, but he can never be certain; it’s just as possible that he will one day realize that either he has dedicated his life in proving something that cannot be proven, simply because his initial assumption was wrong, or that he has ruined the experiment by making certain bad choices along the way. There is nothing to be gained from insisting, he either has to modify his initial assumption or start the experiment from the beginning if he suspects that it was certain parameters of the experiment itself that led to its failure. If he chooses to stubbornly close his eyes to the facts, just to avoid admitting to his mistakes, he will only succeed in ruining his work.” His eyes found hers with a glint that said he knew what she was doing. Whether he appreciated it or not though, was impossible to say. “Now, you might think that this wouldn’t be so terrible, but an experiment can last for years, or even decades, so pursuing it to the very end might mean he won’t have enough time to start anew and save his career before it’s over for good. The sensible choice is to salvage everything he can from his work so far, make a small retreat, regroup himself, rethink his assumptions, reassess his colleagues, and start afresh when the conditions are right.”

 

“So, he makes a small retreat for the good of mankind? So that the world will not miss an important breakthrough?”

 

The sharp smirk on his lips was evidence enough of his unwillingness to take her words seriously, but at the same time it was something Namie recognized and therefore appreciated, so she matched it with a haughty smirk of her own, tilting her head back a bit to show her disdain for such perceptions. “Science is not an exercise on altruism. All scientists crave for recognition. But there is no glory in self-destructing over a lost cause.”

 

Izaya weighed her for a moment with amusement shining clear in his eyes before bursting into laughter, his hands clapping leisurely to the rhythm of his own voice. “Is it parable day today?! Oh, Namie, I am so grateful for this little story you just told me, it really made me smile! Ah! I am almost envious of the convenient simplicity of human thought!” Seeing her frown and cross her arms over her chest defensively, he took a step in, hugging her shoulders loosely from behind and pressing his cheek against her silky black hair so that every word of his blew a gust of warm breath in her ear. Anyone watching them would have thought them to be a young couple sharing an intimate secret, but Izaya’s fingers were painting red marks under her long sleeves. “You speak as if self-destruction is a choice, when it’s really just a given. Man’s downfall begins the moment he lets out his first cry, Namie, that’s the opening act of his ruin, decay invades his body with the first breath – once he’s left the womb, there’s no way for him but down; we die a little every single day. You want me to make a small retreat? To regroup myself and try again when the conditions are _right_? Does your pretty little head not comprehend the nature of this game?” At her attempt to break free, Izaya only tightened his hold on her arms and nuzzled her hair lovingly. “You do not make retreats in life, Namie-san. You do not pull out of the game; it will continue without you and by the time you’ve decided you want back in, there will be no place left for you. This game that you, simple humans, call life is lost before it’s even started. You can cower in the corner or hide in the dark, but time will catch up on you and it will be as merciless as it would have been had you stood up and played along.” His lips caressed the lobe of her ear making her shiver against her will. “Do you care for glory? Then let me tell you where glory lies in a game that’s hopeless and lost; if you can’t defeat them, make sure there will be nothing for them to take away from you when they finally beat you. Self-destruction, you say? I say triumph, I say _freedom._ They will not take anything away from me; they will not _find_ anything to take. And if I ever make the mistake of keeping something as my own, I’ll make sure I’ve burnt it to ashes before giving them the pleasure of stealing it from inside my hands.”

 

He pushed her away with such vindictive animosity that it might as well have been her trying to steal what he considered his, and brushed his coat down as if to chase away the warmth of her body that was ghosting over it. Regaining her balance gracefully, Namie turned to glare at him only to come face to face with a familiar mask; the man who was looking back at her was a fake, nothing but a front. Her lips pursed like she had tasted something bitter and her fingers clenched in fists that were begging to make contact with that face that never failed to infuriate her. If he wanted to be an asshole, that had absolutely _nothing_ to do with her. If he wanted to get himself killed playing games he could never hope to win, that was absolutely _not_ her problem. “You are a pitiful creature. Most people prefer to live a full life with those they love, rather than to cringe back in fear of losing face. You are supposed to be smart, so can you really not tell that you are talking in circles? _You_ are the one giving up before the game is even started! You want to stay alone and miserable, just to make sure that no one will have the pleasure of ruining whatever happiness you might be capable of? Fine! Suit yourself, it’s not like anyone cares. But don’t you dare play the mighty god to me; a coward is what you are.” She whipped her head around before he had a chance to say a word; she had had more than enough of him for one day.

 

Her heels clicked on the pavement as she walked away from him, head held high and shoulders straight, like her whole body was dismissing him. For a moment, Izaya was truly dumbfounded. He had no doubt that he irritated her all the time, and yet Namie had hardly ever lashed out at him like this before. Not to mention that to do so over something that had absolutely nothing to do with her was truly confusing. He would have to look into her bizarre behavior as soon as he had taken care of the issue with Ikebukuro’s monster and the Awakusu-kai, for now he had more important things to worry about.

 

Walking down the street, he tried to clear his mind of this silly little incident with his unimportant secretary and focus on the problem at hand. Izaya was a fan of games of tactics and strategy and some might even go so far as to call him a pathological gambler – all he had to say in his defense was that it was never money he gambled with. So, despite his initial reaction – which was pathetic and a huge mistake, no doubt, he’d have to find a way to gain back the ground that he had lost by allowing his anger to get the best of him – he appreciated the opportunity he had been given to call the bets in this new game. He was not going to allow his opponent to win, that much was certain. All he had to do now was find a way to turn the tables, which was his specialty after all. These games of tactics and strategy were all a matter of predicting his opponent’s move and making sure he was able to counterbalance it with his own. Shiki was a hard man to read, true enough, but Izaya was a mastermind in this type of games, so there really was nothing to worry about – he mentally patted himself on the back, more for support rather than as boasting. He could always think better while bouncing ideas off someone other than himself, but with Namie clearly pissed at him – even if the reason for it remained unclear to him – there were no alternatives left. _Except for… -_ his mind drifted towards a dangerous path, but he put an end to that thought before it had managed to form itself in his mind. There was _no one_ else.

 

_Especially not in Ikebukuro. No one wearing glasses and performing illegal surgeries. No one who would dare tell me I’m revolting in my face, laughing like there’s no danger in speaking to me in that manner. Nope, absolutely no one._

 

As the night closed in around him, Izaya found himself weighing two options, outlined clearly in the two opposite directions of the crossroad he was currently standing at; on the right his first ever date, with the first person he could claim to have ever wanted, and on the left the only person who ever bothered listen to him whenever he’d mess up so royally, the only friend he could ever claim to have (had). _Choices, choices, choices…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Izaya got a bit philosophical, but Namie nailed him: of course he's talking shit.
> 
> Oh, and the songs that nagged my brain while writing this:  
> Closer to the edge - 30 Seconds to Mars  
> Covenant - Like Tears in Rain


	40. Ghosts from the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had a job to do. He could not count the corners of the street, he had a game to win. And nothing mattered more than winning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd never finish this chapter, but I have finally made it! \o/  
> I hope you all enjoy it and that you can forgive me for being so slow lately. I'm almost forgetting what's happening myself at the pace I'm going. :/

Shizuo was drawing circles with his fingers on the shiny surface of the obnoxiously expensive desk he was sitting at (he had the sickening feeling that it cost more than his whole apartment with everything in it), with his brother on his side and one of the most revolting sleazy bastards he had ever had the bad luck of meeting opposite him. The sleazy bastard was his lawyer, one of the best in the whole of Japan according to his brother – who had been the one to seek him out and hire him. _Izaya had nothing to do with this,_ he had to remind himself for the umpteenth time ever since he’d walked into that office. It seemed almost impossible that this guy had been Kasuka’s choice and not Izaya’s: he had the air of someone working with a shady creep like the flea, he smelled of undeserved success, blood-stained riches, loose morals and power taken by force through deceit and exploitation. _Flea-stench if there ever was one._ But perhaps he was being unfair; with the lawyer, _not_ with Izaya. After all, the guy’s day job was to keep scumbags like Shizuo himself out of jail – although the fact that he was the best there was at it was enough proof as to how good a person he was. Either way, Shizuo’s knuckles were itching to make contact with that sly face, and all that was keeping him from knocking that skin-crawling (in its familiarity - _damned flea_ ) half smirk from said face was the fact that his little brother was sitting right next to him, blankly watching the lawyer while he was explaining all the details of the trial that would follow and occasionally offering a nod or a short respectful bow of the head – Shizuo felt no respect for the man and was not prepared to act like he did.

 

He had dreaded this moment ever since Kasuka had mentioned hiring a lawyer. Shizuo was not good with people, especially not with people who had made lying and cheating their profession ( _damn you flea, just get the hell out of my head and stay there!_ ), but what he was truly terrified of was not messing it up and ending up in prison but disappointing Kasuka. He could not fail his brother, not again. They both knew that the choice of lawyer didn’t matter all that much in the end – Izaya had taken care of the trial before it had even started, his influence seemed to run high up, a thought that had Shizuo constantly on edge – but appearances were still important, if not for Shizuo then for Kasuka (or for Yuhei, to be more precise), so a lawyer that could actually persuade the courtroom of Shizuo’s innocence was a plus. This was the only reason why he was playing along. He had tuned out very early on, possibly from the very first sentence, and was happy to let his brother do all the talking. The only time he’d actually opened his mouth was to tell the story ‘from his own perspective’ as the lawyer had put it, and that had left him ashamed and irritable. Kasuka had never forced him to talk about that day, none of his friends had either, and Shizuo was happy to lock the memory deep in his head and keep it away from everyone he cared about. But this was no longer an option. _“The court will want to hear your side of the story”_ was what the lawyer had said, _“and we will have to work on it, to make sure that your side of the story is what we want them to hear”._ Shizuo didn’t like the sound of that; he was expected to lie, he knew. But the man in the expensive suit insisted that it was not lying; _“the truth has many faces, we just have to choose the most convenient one”._ He only had to look closer to see Izaya’s deceitful half smirk reflected on the man’s face.

 

But it was a long time later (it felt like hours had passed) when Shizuo truly lost it and, as expected, Izaya was behind that as well. He was almost not listening, but his brother’s side glance alerted him to the fact that something was being said directly to him. Looking up, Shizuo came face to face with another smug half smirk that felt unnervingly familiar; something had been asked of him and he had completely missed it. What was worse, he had been daydreaming about Izaya, about the ‘date’ they were supposed to be having later that evening, and the involuntary connection his mind made of the man sitting opposite him with that annoying smirk on his lips and the man he was supposed to be meeting later only made Shizuo’s veins scream with tension-rising rage. Izaya still seemed to have that effect on him. Realizing that his client had not heard a word of his question, the lawyer had smiled and repeated it with a smooth gesture of his hands only to find himself pinned against the surface of his desk seconds later, with a seething monster looming over him, hands strong as steel clamped around his throat and a wild roar in his ear: _“YOU LEAVE IZAYA OUT OF THIS!”._ The tragedy had been avoided easily, or so it seemed; the younger brother had calmly stood up and placed a hand on the monster’s shoulder, speaking a soft _“nii-san”_ and suddenly it was all over, the monster was gone and the blond man was letting go, taking a step back and apologizing before sitting back down with his hands on his lap and his gaze fixed on them. Kasuka had taken up the task of explaining the situation after his brother’s outburst. The lawyer had asked about this person that the victim had threatened before Shizuo attacked him and Kasuka blankly explained that the victim had threatened a man named Orihara Izaya who happened to be a friend of his brother. The name was familiar to the lawyer it seemed – or else he had paled out of the blue right after having recovered from an unexpected attack – but he didn’t make any comments about the informant. All he said was that it would be easier to win over the courtroom if they were to use that piece of information in order to establish the fact that Shizuo was acting not only in self-defense but also in defense of someone he cared about, but Shizuo was adamant; Izaya would not be a part of this, in any way. He could not tell whether he was afraid  _of_   or  _for_ him, but no one asked and it was better that way.

 

*

 

Ikebukuro was a large district and yet every street corner seemed to Izaya to be thus situated that it could only take him to two places; either Shinra’s or Shizuo’s apartment. He allowed his mind to engage in an enjoyable inner monologue about how self-centered human beings were, interpreting the whole world around them through their small and inconsequential existence, constantly noting along the way that he was nothing like that, for he was not a simple human. He further tested his theory by taking the wrong turn a couple of times, or by wandering further down a street he was not supposed to be walking in, diverging from his course as much as possible and then trying to work out if this new path could be mapped out in such a way that it would still lead him to either of his two… _acquaintances_ (it had taken him a conspicuously long moment to come up with the right term to describe those two, but he had more entertaining thoughts to fill his mind with at that point and was happy to let that pass without any further introspection) _._ Needless to say,every road seemed to lead to those two. Izaya mentally patted himself on the back, insisting that he was satisfied with the results of his little experiment; if anything it was an entertaining game to pass the time while walking down the street – the fact that he was taking twice as long to reach his destination was of no importance and it was certainly not what he had being trying to achieve to begin with.

 

This way he managed to avoid the more pressing thought of _what the hell am I going to do_ _now_ for quite some time. But in the end, he could only avoid it for so long. There wasn’t much to think about, really; he would have to take Shiki’s offer and serve Shizuo up on a platter if he wanted to keep his head – and he really wanted to keep his head, it was the only one he had and a very handsome one for that matter! It was a good offer, anyway. Shizuo was an idiot, a very naïve idiot who had easily allowed Izaya to turn him into his pet – a not yet fully tamed pet, but still a pet. If he had succeeded once, he could surely do it again. He would have to cause the beast’s wrath first, that was plain to see, there was no other way to persuade the man to work for the Awakusu-kai but to hurt and betray him to the point that working for the yakuza would appear as the only logical option if Shizuo wanted to revenge Izaya for such a betrayal. And the best part was that Izaya wouldn’t even have to sweat it to find a believable lie to support his story; he could just offer the truth. All he had to do was string Shizuo along and then have the Awakusu ambush him with the feign intention of killing him as retribution for his murdering one of their members. Izaya would have to be there, needless to say, and he’d have to laugh and gloat, he’d have to boast that he was the one to hand him over, he’d have to pretend that he had been toying with him all this time with the sole intention of leading him to this trap. The chills that run down his back were enough to slow him down a bit and he chose to take yet another wrong turn to prolong his walk by a few more minutes. Shizuo’s reaction to betrayal wouldn’t be a tame one, like it hadn’t been before. But this time Izaya would have Shiki and all his manpower to protect him. Surely Shizuo wasn’t stupid enough to choose to get himself killed trying to break Izaya’s bones when he could just take Shiki’s offer to work for the man and ruin all of Izaya’s plans for a torturous slow death of the beast who had dared break him for real. Perhaps he was not Yuhei Hanejima but Izaya could be a good actor when he wanted to, it shouldn’t be too hard for him to fake surprise and indignation at Shiki’s offer when the time came. Shizuo should be happy to grab the opportunity and trash Izaya’s schemes.

 

The chill seemed to have invaded his bones and Izaya picked up the pace to force the cold off his limbs. Icy fingers were tracing up and down his spine, but that was just the weather, he told himself, rolling his shoulders and flexing his fingers in his pockets. He was not scared of Shizuo. He was not scared of Shiki-san either. There was nothing and no one Izaya Orihara feared – there was nothing that could throw him off balance and no one who could beat him at his own game. Namie was a fool, he didn’t have to self-destruct, the whole of humanity was welcome to give it a try **: no one** could beat him at his own game. This was not the way he had wanted to play the game, to be sure, but a small obstacle wouldn’t stop him. He’d let Shiki-san believe that things had gone his way, he’d let Shizuo’s hatred for him grow again, and then he’d win it all back again, the way he always did. Shizu-chan had once hated him with so much passion that he could hardly keep calm long enough for Izaya to say a single word in his presence before all sorts of inanimate objects started flying in his direction, and yet Izaya had stood at his doorstep one night and had managed to kiss his lips and live to see the morning light. Shizu-chan had felt betrayed before – the shudder that shot through his body almost immobilized Izaya, but he waved it off with a chuckle – and yet Izaya was now invited in the blond’s apartment for an actual date with the man who had almost killed him in a fit of rage. Shizuo would come around eventually, he’d get hurt and he’d brood over it for some time, but he would get over it once again, he would fall back into Izaya’s hands, he’d be his again one day and then Izaya would use him against Shiki-san. He didn’t have to obey Shiki-san. He didn’t have to lose Shizu-chan. There was no reason why he shouldn’t make Shizuo hate him, no reason at all. There was nothing he couldn’t do, only a few things he was not interested in doing, he had said that much to Shiki before. But then again, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to achieve his goal and that was what made him Orihara Izaya, the best at what he did; he was free from all that kept humans behind, he had no emotional attachments, no inhibitions, no hopes or fears, he cared about nothing but enjoying himself - he could throw his life in the fire to find some meaningless instant gratification as Shinra had once put it, but what did that traitor know, anyhow?

 

He took a left turn at the next corner of the street and stood at the sidewalk waiting for the light to turn green – he had wandered around long enough, he had to make his way to Shizuo’s now and get on with this sad charade. He’d have to make sure the beast would grow so accustomed to his presence during the next couple of weeks that he would hardly be able to spend a night on his own ever again – this way it would be even more hurtful when Izaya finally laughed in his face and claimed to have been playing him for a fool, he tried to rationalize the thought in his mind. This would also work in Izaya’s interest in the future, after all was done and Shizuo was back to hating him: night after night the blond would have to lie in an empty bed and miss the warmth of another body next to him; surely, even on a purely physical level, this should be enough for the idiot to miss him… The words sent a course of ice through his veins as they echoed in his head and Izaya forgot to breathe for a few beats. The light went green and then red again but he was still standing at the same spot, unable to move, unable to breathe without feeling a pain so sharp tearing through him that he had to check his chest for blood oozing from an invisible stab wound. “ _I missed you_ ” – three short words, spoken with such dread a long time ago (or what felt to him like a long time ago), which, however, still had the same paralyzing effect on him. He couldn’t tell whether it was fear, grief or remorse that made him go limp at the sound of those words, he couldn’t even tell what the original feeling that had immobilized him that night was, but he couldn’t care much about the feeling at that point, not when the simple sound of those three words caused him such pain that he could hardly draw in a breath – not the dull, persistent kind of pain that is often associated with bad memories, but the sharp, paralyzing pain that has you thinking you’re dying any minute now even though your vitals are all perfectly normal and the doctors all give you condescending smiles suggesting that you should get some rest. Not that he had ever experienced this kind of pain before – no, no, no, Orihara Izaya did not suffer from such petty anxieties, and if he ever did he would certainly not make (he _had_ certainly not made) the mistake of seeing a doctor, especially not an unlicensed underground doctor with an unhealthy obsession with a headless angel of death who would (who _had_ ) laugh and joke and offer to analyze his brain activity during sleep to _“unlock all his dark, unspeakable truths”._ Damn Shinra and Shizuo and the whole of Ikebukuro! He could not fall prey to his own stupid feelings – he didn’t _have_ any, wasn’t that what everyone said about him?! Shizuo had brutalized him, worst still, Shizuo had objectified him, that horrible inhuman beast had stripped him bare of everything that made him who he was, of everything that made him human even, Shizuo had robbed him off his free will, had snatched away his self-control, he had trampled his self-esteem and left him bleeding to die like a dog. Izaya let the air out of his lungs with a weak chuckle as the light turned green again. He couldn’t yet find the willpower to take a step on the pedestrian crossing in front of him, he just stood and watched the faceless crowd snake around him and flood the street. Shizu-chan was the only person who had ever missed him. Shizu-chan was the only person who had ever trusted him, the real him, the lying, cheating snake, the blood-sucking flea, the deceitful bastard – there were dozens of hurtful names that Shizuo loved to spew at him with every opportunity and yet Shizu-chan was also the only person who had ever spoken _those_ three words to him. And Izaya could feel them lodged in his throat, choking him with every passing second as the light turned red again and the city traffic turned the street into a blur of passing lights.

 

_You’re such an idiot, Shizu-chan._

 

*

 

When they were finally left alone in the office with Kasuka, Shizuo couldn’t help but sigh in relief. He hadn’t heard much of what the lawyer had told them in the hour or so that they’d been in that office together, but he was already fed up with the man and this bloody situation. Besides, it was already dark outside and all he could think about was getting back home so he could have a quick shower and prepare a decent dinner for himself and Izaya. His mind had been wandering in that direction a lot since the previous evening. Would Izaya be any different in this ‘date’ than he usually was? Would the lousy bastard even bother make an effort or would he simply fall back in his usual antics, driving Shizuo insane and practically trashing this whole evening? _I guess we’ll find out soon,_ was the best answer he could come up with as he checked the time on his phone.

 

“Are we done yet? It’s getting kinda late.”

 

Kasuka mumbled a flat _“We should be heading out soon”_ without turning to look at him. They had hardly exchanged one glance ever since they’d walked into that office, but Kasuka seemed happy to stare blankly at the empty chair opposite him even now when they were alone. Shizuo didn’t really mind, he’d learned to appreciate his brother’s silences without worrying over what they might mean; he knew that they usually didn’t mean anything. Studying his profile in the artificial light of the office, Shizuo caught himself thinking that his little brother resembled him a lot. It was merely a physical resemblance, of course, for they were completely different in character. Izaya’s words came back to him - _“he’s really good, I must say”-_ and he smiled despite himself. He hadn’t brought up the TV show to Kasuka yet as he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. Some part of him wanted to roar with laughter and shake his brother’s hand for managing to outwit the bloody flea. But that would seem rather petty, especially since he had invited said flea to his place for dinner that very same evening. Perhaps he could just congratulate him for putting up a good show and thus saving his career – but he could remember how serious Izaya had looked when he’d claimed that Kasuka had in fact _not_ been acting. The thought made him want to thank his brother – thank him for caring enough to shed a tear for as worthless a human being (not human being, just a monster) as himself – but he knew that Kasuka wouldn’t appreciate it all that much, not if he were to put it that way. So in the end he just coughed nervously and ruffled his hair before blurting out: “So, I heard you went to one of those TV shows after all.”

 

Kasuka turned to gaze at him with his usual impassive expression. “You didn’t watch it?”

 

Of course, Shizuo never missed a show where his brother was invited. If he wasn’t home at the time when it was aired he would make sure to record it so he could watch it later – he didn’t have much to be proud of in his life, his little brother was the only exception and he followed his career with a passion that he lacked in pretty much every other aspect of his life. But with his TV broken to smithereens and no functioning computer in his possession it had been impossible to watch the show where Kasuka had ruined the flea’s plan.

 

“Um, well, I didn’t…” how was he supposed to say that he had smashed his TV in a fit of rage? “The TV…um…it…broke.” Izaya had responded to that statement with a soft knowing smirk which warmed Shizuo’s heart as he now thought about it, but Kasuka’s reaction was the same as to anything else; he just stared at him blankly for a few seconds before turning away again, like the conversation was already over or simply not interesting enough for him. Shizuo silently berated himself for being so judgmental of a behavioral pattern he was supposed to know and understand better than he understood his own. “But I, um…heard…that you were really good.” His brother’s expression as he turned to look at him again was as deadpan as ever, but the simple fact that he had bothered to turn told Shizuo that something had caught his attention. “So, it’s…you know, it’s alright now? I mean, you’re ok?” He couldn’t have sounded any more awkward if he had tried, he knew, but Kasuka just watched him quietly for a few long moments and Shizuo just knew what it was that his brother was waiting for. Funnily enough, the words seemed to have caught in his throat and it took a great deal of effort to finally speak them: “Izaya told me.”

 

A silent stare and a nod seemed to be all the answer he would get, but after a long moment of oppressive silence the monotone of Kasuka’s voice was finally heard. “So you apologized after all.”

 

It was not a question, Shizuo realized, and there was no reason why it should have been, only the statement itself alerted him to the fact that his brother had indeed remembered their conversation and consequently all that had led up to it. The thought made him blush and he had to avert Kasuka’s gaze in order to not choke on his shame – as if it wasn’t bad enough already that he’d had to narrate the whole damned _murder_ (the word stung) in front of his brother. He nodded and a sigh escaped him before he managed to string the words together: “He didn’t care much for my apology, but I offered it anyway.” There was no reply, but he could feel his brother’s gaze burning him and he didn’t dare look up. A few moments later the door to the office was flung open and the lawyer walked back in again, offering apologies for having to step outside – apologies which Shizuo couldn’t care less about. The presence alone of that man in the room made his blood boil when he was already too close to the breaking point. So he pushed his chair back and stood up burying his hands in his pockets and raising his voice to cut out the annoying buzz of business talk, not caring in the least about the fact that he was interrupting the sleazy bastard. “Are we done? I have to be somewhere.”

 

The room went quiet for a moment and it was Kasuka who broke the silence with a seemingly soft – but Shizuo knew better, by the lingering look he received – reminder. “Hamada-san has invited us for dinner with his associates – who will also be working on your case.” Shizuo actually had to think about that sentence to remember that Hamada was the lawyer’s name, but no matter how hard he thought about it he couldn’t seem to remember hearing that invitation or conceding to it. He looked up at the man whose name he had just become aware of to find him watching him with a mixture of fear and expectation and then back down at his brother again, who was staring at him long and hard – a seemingly dispassionate look which however Shizuo recognized as a very rigid one, the kind that suggested he had somehow failed his little brother. There was nothing Shizuo hated more than failing his little brother. But this was the first chance Izaya had given him after that night and he knew for a fact that if he messed it up he might never get another one. He opened his mouth to speak before making up a decision as to what he wanted to say – or what he wanted to do, who he wanted to fail – and ended up stammering pitifully. “I, um…I’m sss-sorry, I, um…I al-already have plans. For dinner. S-sorry.” He could tell by how warm his face felt that he was blushing wildly, but thankfully the lawyer jumped to his rescue.

 

“That’s alright, some other time! We will have other opportunities, no worries.” But Kasuka’s lingering stare at his older brother didn’t go unnoticed. “Leave the man alone Hanejima-san, you know what it’s like to have a lady waiting for you!” It was meant as friendly banter, but Shizuo only blushed a deeper shade of red and couldn’t help but quietly correct the ‘lady’ part while at the same time wondering whether his brother really knew what it was like to have anyone waiting for him. It was not a question he would ever ask of course, they hadn’t been that close for years - thanks to Izaya, he reminded himself. At least he was free to head back home after exchanging a nervous handshake with the lawyer. While Kasuka was setting the next appointment with the secretary at the front desk – Shizuo was _not_ looking forward to it – he walked outside of the building to have a smoke to calm his nerves. It was a pleasant evening, not particularly cold, and the traffic made him feel at ease. The law firm’s offices were in Minato, an area he was not particularly familiar with, but that was hardly ever a bad thing. Shizuo felt most at ease in places where no one knew him; he always got the sense that he could blend in, he could be whoever he wanted to be, he didn’t have to be Ikebukuro’s _monster_. Izaya would laugh at that thought no doubt.

 

*

 

Izaya had no idea how long he’d stood at that corner for, all he knew was that when he had finally found the strength to move again his legs ached and his spine felt stiff from the cold. He had a job to do. It was that simple. Shiki-san could not be allowed to win this game. Shizu-chan could not be allowed to destroy everything Izaya had strived to make of himself. He would hand Ikebukuro’s monster to the Awakusu-kai and he wouldn’t even blink while doing so. Shiki-san would never have the pleasure of watching him lose. Shizu-chan…well, Shizu-chan was his, his to hate, his to hurt, his to kill. No one else had the right to decide about his life. So if the only decision Izaya could make was to sacrifice him, that was exactly the decision he’d make. He never struggled for a lost cause, he never sided with the losers and he wasn’t about to start now. Shiki would pay for this. He didn’t know how yet, but there was no doubt that he would indeed pay. He just needed to buy some time and Shizuo was the bait, the sacrifice that would buy him all the time he needed. There was no reason why he shouldn’t sacrifice him, no reason at all. Izaya Orihara only ever cared about himself, he was a selfish bastard who could not be trusted, he was heartless, untrustworthy, loyal to no one but himself – you could ask anyone you liked, even Shizuo himself, they would all tell you just that!

 

 _A left turn here, another left turn three streets down, then follow the road, it makes a slight turn to the right, it shouldn’t take me longer than fifteen minutes, perhaps twenty seeing as the traffic is crazy as always._ He had to stop, walk into a dark alleyway, press his back to the cold wall and slide down, crouching on the ground, head dropped between his knees and counting, he knew the drill. Shinra had said that it’d get better in time, but Izaya hadn’t expected quite that. It was naïve, he knew, but he had dared hope that one day he’d just get rid of those paralyzing panic attacks altogether, as unexpected as he’d started getting them; naïve and stupid for someone who liked to think of himself as better than the average human. Shinra had made it very clear, he’d explained that Izaya would gradually get used to them, would learn to recognize the signs, would work out all the ways in which to fight the symptoms and hence the panic attacks themselves. And true enough, Izaya had learned to live with the fear of the lurking vertigo, the violent turns of his stomach, the cold sweats, the warning tunnel vision. Recognizing the signs and getting over the actual panic attacks were two very different things it seemed. He was fine in only a few minutes, simply crouching on the dirty floor of a random alley with his knees drawn to his chest, skin crawling at how cold the faintness had left him. _A left turn, then another one, then follow the road…_ Shinra’s place. Shinra would laugh at the dilemma tormenting him. He’d adjust his glasses with a mocking smirk and ask him if he’d in fact grown a heart – he’d suggest that he opens him up to confirm it. Shinra was never good at giving advice – no, not _good,_ he was just not interested. He couldn’t _care_ enough to help. They didn’t have much in common but they had that. What the doctor was good at was mocking him; laughing in his face, saying things that Izaya never wanted to hear, things that no one else would ever dare say to him – except for Shizuo, maybe, but then Shinra was a thousand times more perceptive than their common ex-classmate so there was hardly any comparison there. He pushed himself up again and stood still for a second, testing to see that he had indeed regained his balance, that there were no black spots in his vision, no feeling of being sucked to the ground. Shinra was supposed to be his friend, but he was really just a traitor. And that was so perfectly normal in Izaya’s books that the ache attacking his chest at the thought was laughable, really. _A left turn and then another one…_ \- how ridiculously easy life was if you didn’t think about it too much. Just put one foot in front of the other, walk down the street until you reach the corner, the corner where two roads meet, such an embarrassingly obvious metaphor, then take a turn, a left turn, then one foot in front of the other, just like before, walk down the street and count the corners you walk past, the corners where different roads meet, where lines intersect to form angles and why is he even thinking of that now, just count the corners, 1-2-3, and then take another turn, a left turn, at the fourth corner… So simple indeed. Nothing as simple as that should hurt so much, on a physical level no less, like an actual open wound. He had a job to do. He could not count the corners of the street, he had a game to win. And nothing mattered more than winning.

 

*

 

Shizuo had half-expected to find Izaya waiting for him when he finally made it home. Turning down Kasuka’s offer for a lift meant using public transportation which was that much more time consuming than a ride home at that time of the day. But he needed the time and the space, away from his brother’s suffocating silent stares, to clear his mind. It was not fair really, Kasuka was the one who had suggested he should apologize to Izaya, so why was he now acting like speaking the name ‘Izaya’ was an insult on its own? He could come up with a number of plausible (and perfectly justifiable) explanations, but he didn’t want to do that, not when he was expecting the man the insulting name belonged to any minute now. Kasuka had offered nothing more than lingering looks at Shizuo’s awkward explanation that he was supposed to have dinner with Izaya that evening – that he was actually supposed to be cooking, which he was way too late for already. His brother’s face had remained blank even as Shizuo had mumbled that he’d never cooked for two before, a reaction that shouldn’t have surprised or hurt him as much as it did because after all this was just how Kasuka was, but he had the terrible feeling that he was being judged and he couldn’t seem to fight the tension no matter how hard he clenched his fists and chewed on his cigarette. So when the offer came he didn’t have to think twice before rejecting it. Had he had enough time, he would have actually chosen to walk all the way back to Ikebukuro, that was how frustrated he felt. The only farewell Kasuka had offered before hopping into the back seat of his limo was an emotionless “ _Be careful_ ”.

 

Shizuo couldn’t stop mulling it over: _be careful_. It wasn’t the typical ‘take care’, which would have in fact been very unusual coming from his brother who never bothered say things like that, it was a very specific ‘be careful’. It meant _beware of the man you are getting involved with._ It meant _don’t trust him._ It meant that Kasuka saw Izaya as a threat, as someone dangerous for his older brother – the monster who had killed a man with his bare hands. He couldn’t really blame him, Shizuo himself had been telling him for years that Izaya was a pest, a scheming bastard he should keep away from at any cost. And now Shizuo was the one to invite said bastard in his home – in his _life_ even. Perhaps he truly was an idiot, like Izaya always said.

 

He had only done half the preparation for dinner, he still had to cook and there was simply no time for a shower. Who was he kidding, this was not a date, it was another failed attempt at getting Izaya to like him. He had half a mind to call the damned thing off, to have a shower, grab a bite and then go to bed, alone, the only way he knew how to function, but it was too late to cancel, Izaya should be on his way – he should had already arrived as a matter of fact. So he walked in his kitchen instead and started taking all the ingredients he needed for cooking out of the fridge and placing them on the counter. Izaya _was_ a scheming bastard and a pest, a parasite who sucked the life out of others to keep going and, however pitiful it sounded, Shizuo was more than willing to open the door to the parasite, let it attach itself to him so that it could feed off of him. He wasn’t sure who between the two of them was the more pitiful anymore. He was in the process of choosing a pot large enough to cook for two people when the knock at the door came. The fact that he had memorized the sound of that knock, firm and decisive, like the whole world was hanging from a thread and the contact of Izaya’s knuckles with the surface of the door would decide its fate, made him feel uneasy. If he had any sense of self-preservation he should tear the door off its hinges and smash it on the insect’s head – if he cared about anyone, not just himself, but his brother, his friends, anyone in the world, he should obliterate the louse’s existence from the face of the Earth. Instead he took a deep breath to steady himself and opened the door.

 

Why would he ever consider the possibility of doing anything other than opening the door for this man? He could no longer remember. The curve of Izaya’s lips as his form was revealed behind the door was the same infuriating sinister smug smirk of the know-it-all bastard he had hated all his life, but it only took a fraction of a second for their eyes to meet and that’s when something cracked. Had he been eloquent enough, Shizuo might have claimed that he could hear the sound of something cracking just as he could see the cracks appearing along the usually impeccable mask the flea was hiding behind. Something broke inside him and Izaya’s smirk faltered for a second before morphing into a puzzled frown and finally settling in a soft half-smirk, nowhere near as calculating as the one he could remember from days past. Just like that, every doubt in Shizuo’s mind was gone. Izaya was a scheming bastard, but every once in a while Shizuo would get a glimpse of the person under the mask, a normal human being, with his hopes and his fears and his weaknesses, someone who, against any common sense, would keep coming back to him, occasionally even daring to put his defenses down, to trust him – **_him_** , the monster, the one who did not deserve anyone’s trust. And at those moments the world crumbled around them. He could see the strings that kept this masquerade up spring apart one by one, the lies and the pain all falling away, leaving nothing but the two of them standing; the good-for-nothing monster and the heartless flea. The perfect fit.

 

Izaya took a step forward and peered over Shizuo’s shoulder inside the apartment, the half-smirk on his face turning playful, before tilting his head to the side and looking up at the man standing at the door. “No candles? No flowers? And here I thought you were a romantic, Shizu-chan!” There was no sharpness in his voice, no cutting edge in his words, just a playful purr and a slight arch of a thin eyebrow. Shizuo couldn’t fight back a smile.

 

“I didn’t know you cared for candles and flowers.”

 

Izaya’s lips mirrored Shizuo’s smile and his eyes followed suit. Whatever it was that had broken inside him, it seemed to have died away without any sign of pain. “I care for everything Shizu-chan has to offer.”

 

 _Pain, pain and destruction_ , was what Shizuo thought he had to offer, but he was an idiot and Izaya was supposed to be the smart one, and maybe a bit of faith was all it took, a bit of faith and a smile that reached the louse’s eyes every once in a while. Shizuo could settle for that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said at the begining, I thought I'd never make it to the end of this chapter. :S I almost gave up a few times along the way, thinking that perhaps I could postpone updating for a few more weeks or something, but I was certain it'd only become more difficult to write the chapter if I postponed it any longer. So I struggled with the words, dragging myself along the way, and I'm sorry if it comes across in the text, but it was either that or not updating for a few more months. :( Anyway, an 'old friend' helped me find some inspiration again, playing non-stop in a loop while I was busting my brains to put one word next to the other. And because it's a rather rare (or at least not widely known) b-side which basically combines three songs in one astonishing live recording, I am actually going to link you to a youtube video this time. I hope you'll find it as heart-warming and inspirational as I do: REM-Time after time etc.  
> [And now I'll leave you alone because I talk too much :3]


	41. Damaged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken a really long break from this story, but, what do you know, it's finally being updated! I'm sorry for the long absence, but I'm really thankful for everyone who kept checking back and dropping a word for me. I hope you enjoy the new chapter. :)

“Dinner’s not ready yet”, Shizuo stated the obvious while spreading an assortment of ingredients on the kitchen counter. Izaya was hovering behind his back, with his hands in his pockets.

“Did you invite me for dinner only to get me to cook?” It was meant as banter, and Shizuo’s snort left no doubt as to how likely it was for Izaya to ever bother with anything as ordinary as cooking.

“Right! As if you’d know how to prepare a meal - except for getting take-out!”

“It can’t be so hard if _you_ ’re doing it.” Izaya’s tone was playful, but Shizuo still turned to look at him, to confirm that the other hadn’t taken offence at his comment. Izaya’s lips were stretched out in a teasing smile and his eyes were bright with mirth. Shizuo couldn’t help but smile back.

“I bet you could do far better than me if you cared to try!” Izaya’s laughter sent a wave of warmth through him as he rummaged through his kitchen drawers for a sharp knife. His kitchenware seemed to be in just as miserable a state as anything else in his apartment. He had never been self-conscious about his home, but then again he’d hardly ever had any visitors before. He couldn’t claim to care much about money or anything he could buy with them, but with Izaya standing just a few feet behind him, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at how much of a wreck his entire life seemed to be. He picked up the less blunt knife he could find along with a battered chopping board and proceeded to chop the vegetables and meat he’d taken out of the fridge. “I didn’t expect to be so late… I had my first appointment with my lawyer”, he checked over his shoulder to find Izaya watching him and hesitated for a moment. “We went to see him with Kasuka.” The change in the other’s expression wasn’t lost on Shizuo; Izaya’s lips twisted in resentment and even though he turned his gaze away from Shizuo, the other had no doubt that it had gone as cold as the tone of his voice, kept deliberately disinterested as he asked how the appointment had gone. “Fine, I guess” his reply came out with an exhale that sounded too much like a sigh. “The lawyer is a creepy bastard.”

“Well, he does represent monsters like you.”

If it was meant as an insult, it didn’t seem to affect Shizuo at all. Quite the contrary. “Yeah, my thoughts exactly… He seems to know what he’s doing.”

“That’s good news then” Izaya sounded impatient all of a sudden, as if the conversation was boring him and upsetting him at the same time. “Maybe you’ll get away with it after all!”

There was no mistaking the aggravation in his tone and Shizuo turned to stare straight at him, with the knife still in his hand. Izaya’s expression was dark, there was something vicious playing across his features, but there was no clue as to what had caused that change in his mood. “You and I both know that’s been taken care of.” Shizuo watched the corners of Izaya’s mouth stretch in a complacent curve, but the look in his eyes was scornful. “I haven’t thanked you…” Izaya’s laugh cut him off, cold and dangerous.

“You don’t think anything I’m doing is intended to help you, do you?”

Shizuo had definitely hoped so, but the other’s tone was enough to make him clench his fist around the knife’s handle and grit his teeth. How many times could anyone make the same mistake? There was nothing gentle about Izaya and he’d better remember that if he didn’t want to fall in the same traps again and again. He willed his fingers to relax around the wooden handle and exhaled loudly through his nose before turning back to the chopping board in front of him and concentrating on slicing the meat as thin as he could. “Guess not.”

“Good, try to remember that so as not to confuse my motives for anything altruistic or thoughtful.” The edge in his voice left no doubt, Izaya was up for a fight - one that Shizuo had no interest in participating in. “Every single thing I do is targeted at making you pay, and should you ever forget that, I’ll make sure to remind you!”

“ **Fine**!” The wooden knife handle snapped in two as Shizuo slammed it down on the kitchen counter to get Izaya’s irritating hiss of a voice to stop. “I get it. You’re doing this to punish me. It’s all part of some fucking plan to destroy me. Fine!” He turned over his shoulder to find Izaya pinned at his spot, clearly startled by this outburst, and immediately regretted raising his voice. This new version of Izaya, who was rational enough to be fearful of the beast’s fury, was not a sight Shizuo enjoyed. He sighed resignedly before turning away again, picking up the pieces of the now ruined knife and pushing them away from his reach, at the other side of the counter. “Look, I get it. You’re angry at me. You get to be angry at me. You’ll never let me forget what I did to you and you’ll do anything to keep me regretting it until the day I die. Fine!” He had to stop and take a deep breath at that. _Was_ it fine? Clearly, his expectations were continuously fooling him. When Izaya wasn’t around, it was easy to imagine their relationship as something, even marginally, functional. But it wasn’t, it probably never would be. And he wasn’t sure he could deal with all the guilt and self-loathing, not when Izaya was there to make sure he’d be burdened by them every single moment of his life. But he’d seen that look, the look in Izaya’s eyes when he’d opened the door to let him in just minutes earlier, and he’d spent the whole day looking forward to this. He flexed his fingers against the surface of the counter, trying to ease some of that tension away, and then turned around, letting his weight fall back against the kitchen drawers, and taking in the image of Izaya standing a few feet behind him, looking defeated as he kept his mouth shut by force clearly visible on the set of his jaw. “You could have left me in jail. Or you could have gotten me killed, I’m sure it would be easy to arrange that. But here you are.” Izaya’s eyelashes fluttered but he clenched his jaw shut even harder. “You won’t let me apologize or make it up to you in any way. And maybe I can’t” he was fast to add, seeing how the other’s mouth twitched with unmistakable anger “maybe I can’t make it up to you. But I invited you here tonight and you came. And I didn’t invite you just so we could have another fight. I’m making an effort here, do you think you could meet me half way?” He watched Izaya’s throat work on a swallow, his features so tense that the nod that followed was almost lost on Shizuo. It was mostly the resignation in his gaze that confirmed it. Shizuo smiled tiredly. “Good. Because there’s still a lot to do and I’m starving already!”

“So what is it that you’re cooking anyway?” Izaya’s voice sounded strained behind Shizuo’s back as he was going through the drawers to find another knife, but the fact that he had agreed to make an effort was enough to reassure him.

“Uh, well… I was a bit surprised to be honest… but Shinra was adamant so…”, his search was proving fruitless, all of his knives seemed to be blunt, “I’m just making ramen.” The sound of the other’s laughter was crystalline, it made Shizuo turn on his heels, perplexed as to what was so funny that Izaya was practically roaring with laughter. The more Shizuo watched him, the more the other laughed, effectively pissing him off. “Wanna let me in on the joke?” But Izaya was flailing with laughter, his face flashed with mirth, his eyes watering. “What the hell is so funny?”

Seeing how the beast had started resurfacing, Izaya did his best to catch his breath enough to form a reply, wiping the tears out of his eyes with the back of his hands. “Just Shinra growing a spine; I once told him I hate ramen!”

The growing frustration in Shizuo’s look turned to full-blown fury in the span of a second. Izaya would have been terrified if that look had been directed at him, but it clearly wasn’t and all he felt as he watched the other stomp out of the kitchen and towards the apartment door, muttering _kill, kill, kill_ under his breath, was amusement. He caught up with him - Shizuo might be terrifying when he was livid like that, but one thing he wasn’t was fast - and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, dragging him closer as he leaned his back against the wall, just off the small entrance were his coat was hanging next to Shizuo’s jacket. “How about you let him live for another night? You can kill him tomorrow, he isn’t going anywhere.”

It took a beat for the other’s eyes to focus on his face and Izaya felt a strange flutter in his stomach. All the hatred that had burned in him mere moments before was immediately forgotten and he could hardly believe that he could ever feel this way about the man before him. Shizuo stared at him quietly for a few seconds before gritting his teeth. “I’ll kill that fucking bastard!”

A hollow statement, no doubt, and Izaya chuckled. “I won’t stop you!” He run his fingers up the fabric of Shizuo’s collar, resting his hand against the back of the other’s neck and appreciating how Shizuo’s lashes fluttered at the contact. “I was lying, anyway. Just trying to avoid his bland cooking.”

Shizuo laughed at that, his eyes lighting up as he pushed his palm flat against the wall, right by Izaya’s face, and leaned in closer, just to appreciate the proximity. “Shinra’s cooking isn’t so bad. It’s Celty’s you should beware of!” And just like that, they were sharing a laugh together. Shizuo even dared to hope that perhaps they had made a small step forward, away from the open confrontation they were so used to and towards something more stable and less hurtful. Izaya’s fingers drew an idle circle against his skin and then trailed back down his collar to trace the dip between his collar bones. His lashes were heavy with desire and Sizuo caught himself reminiscing about the days when he could taste Izaya’s skin, fit his teeth against the curves of the other’s body, touch his most sensitive spots. But those were the days when Izaya was toying with him, the days when they would hardly exchange a word, and there was nothing to miss about them except for the carnal relationship which could hardly replace this semblance of honesty that they had achieved between them.

Izaya brought his other hand up, caught a strand of bleached hair between two fingers and twisted it, tugging softly, enjoying the groan that left Shizuo’s lips. He then let his fingertips slide through the other’s hair to rest against the base of his skull, catching the short strands there and pulling them softly. Shizuo’s eyes fluttered shut and he couldn’t help humming pure pleasure at the contact. These small gestures of intimacy were nothing compared to how close the two of them had been in the past year, and yet Izaya could feel a tightness in his chest that he would hardly experience before. Despite the roughness, the blond locks in his fingers felt good, and with Shizuo standing so close, Izaya could feel a familiar warmth take over him. But there was something ugly there, too, a hollow feeling he couldn’t deny even if he’d wanted to, a fire burning deep inside him, and even the sound of Shiki’s voice in the back of his mind _“you cannot afford to get sentimental in this line of work”_. He had made up his mind before finally showing up at the blond’s door that night, he had concluded that walking the path Shiki had laid out for him was the best choice he could make at that point, he had covered the remaining distance to Shizuo’s apartment with the intention of doing everything necessary in order to string him along in this plan he had himself devised not long ago. And then he had changed his mind yet again. The moment he had locked eyes with the other, all his plans and decision had gone tumbling down with little care about the consequences. He _did_ have a weakness. His weakness was Shizuo, it had always been him, since the moment they’d first met. Izaya had loathed him for that very reason. He still loathed the part of him that was so obsessed with Ikebukuro’s monster, he still hated Shizuo for bringing out this weakness in him. He wanted to pull the strands in his fingers hard enough to hurt the other. No, he wanted to _want_ to do that; and he loathed himself for not actually wanting it. Just as the fire in him was starting to spread, he felt Shizuo’s fingers wrap around his pelvis and apply tentative pressure, like he was testing the effect of his strength against the other’s skin. He looked down to see that strong hand fitting around the curve of his bone and then back up again to meet Shizuo’s gaze. But the other was still looking down, contemplating the way Izaya’s bone was protruding under his clothes and letting guilt overcome him as he was sure he deserved.

“You are so thin.”

Under different circumstances, Izaya might have taken pride at that statement. He liked keeping his body lean, he appreciated the image of bones and toned muscles under perfect unmarred skin. But then his skin was no longer unmarred. Every time he looked at himself in the mirror he was greeted by a scar at the corner of his mouth, by a memory that had rage burning ablaze in his chest. He gritted his teeth and tightened his hold against the strands of hair caught between his fingers, flashing his nastiest leer. “You never complained before.”

This change of mood passed unnoticed as Shizuo’s mind was preoccupied with the implications of Izaya’s gaunt look. He just went on speaking his thoughts out loud in what was hardly above a whisper. “Did I really do this to you?” He only looked up to Izaya’s face when his hand was violently slapped away.

“You didn’t do anything to me.” The look on his face was unrelenting and Shizuo should have known better than to challenge him, but denying anything had ever happened was foolish, not to say dangerous.

“I hurt you.” He’d hardly finished his sentence before he was bodily pushed away by a clearly -if inexplicably- seething Izaya.

“You give yourself too much credit.” Izaya strode the distance to the opposite side of the room, desperate to put as much space between him and Shizuo as possible, or else he might end up attacking him for real. That fire inside him was devouring every good feeling he had ever had about the idiot standing behind him and his hands had already started shaking in response to all the memories that this conversation was causing to resurface. “You actually believe that you have the power to affect me in any way. How entertaining!” He turned to glower at Shizuo with that, his fingers twitching with the desire to reach for the switchblade in his pocket.

Shizuo’s look spelled confusion, frustration even. No matter how many times he was faced with this kind of reaction from Izaya, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to comprehend it. “I don’t understand why you’re getting so defensive.”

Izaya’s chuckle was humorless and all the more vicious for that. “Really, Shizu-chan? You really are stupid, aren’t you?”

“Watch it!” Shizuo felt his fists clenching at his sides, like his body was responding to the insult by its own volition.

“You really wonder why I feel the need to defend myself in your presence?”

“Izaya, I’m warning you -”

“Warning me?!” He flashed a toothy grin, all razor-blade sharpness and fake entertainment. “You never cease to impress me, Shizu-chan. Always claiming to hate the monster in you, and then hurting and ruining everyone around you…”

“Shut up!” But Izaya didn’t even stop to listen to the warning.

“… always promising to never hurt me again, and then growling in my face, like the beast you are.”

“ **Enough!** ”

“You cannot hurt me.” He could feel the vein popping out on his forehead pulsing with the rage he could not contain. “You are nobody.” The warning was obvious in the other’s posture, but he chose to ignore it. Anything to return some of the hurt that burned him. “Just an ugly mistake of nature. And I’d take you out of your misery right now if I didn’t enjoy hurting the people you love so much.”

“Izay-”

“Like that freak of a brother you have.” He wasn’t surprised to find himself slammed against the wall behind him, with Shizuo’s hand fisting the front of his shirt and pushing him back with enough force to make breathing a struggle. His body’s reaction though, however foreseeable it should have been, still took him by surprise. The first chills that run down his back rendered his knees weak at the thought of what was to follow and he almost felt glad for the support the grip in his shirt was providing.

“You do NOT. Talk. About my brother.” Shizuo didn’t even spare a thought for the blade that seemed to materialize out of thin air with the sole purpose of being pointed menacingly at him. The hand holding it was shaking so badly that the threat it presented was closer to a joke than an actual menace.

“You do not tell me what I can or can’t talk about.” Izaya’s voice was coming out breathless, as unsteady as his hands. He held on to his knife regardless.

“What are you going to do? Stab me? You’re shaking like some kid who’s never held a knife in his life before!”

“Let go of me.” Shizuo spared a glance at his hold on the other’s shirt, not fully realizing the effect it had on Izaya. “Let. Go.” Izaya spoke through clenched teeth and Shizuo looked back up to his face again, the look on the other’s eyes making him unclench his fingers without really letting go yet. “Maybe I can’t kill you with my own two hands, but it will only take a phone call and your brother will be escorting you to the grave instead of court.” It wasn’t the threat that persuaded Shizuo to finally let go. If anything, those words should have infuriated him even further. It was the tension so obvious along Izaya’s features and the memories it invoked. Memories of the night when he’d lost it and of the night when he’d watched Izaya lose control of himself over fear. The moment he let go, Izaya took a deep breath, exhaling shakily, and let his arm fall to the side, the threat the switchblade was providing forgotten and unnecessary. “If you ever touch me without having received explicit permission first, I will cut your heart out and send it to your brother as a gift.”

Shizuo felt his face flush with shame and irritation. “I wasn’t-”

“I don’t care what your intentions were. Explicit. Permission. Understood?”

While fully aware of how much at fault he was at this situation, Shizuo couldn’t help but feel irritated. Every attempt he made to talk about what had happened that night, whether to apologize or simply to understand why it had all happened, was met with scorn and rage by Izaya, who, however, seemed happy to allude to the events of that same night whenever he felt that it could be used as effective ammunition against him. Accepting his responsibility and guilt was one thing, letting Izaya torment him with something he wasn’t even allowed to make sense of was another. “You’re so full of yourself. You think you can talk shit to me and I’ll just sit back and listen? Fuck you!” Izaya forced a defiant smirk on his face, ignoring the way his muscles tensed and his stomach turned with panic and resentment. “I don’t even wanna touch you. I’d break your face if I didn’t know how much you’d enjoy it, but I’m done playing your stupid games. You wanna use that night to guilt trip me? Fine. Go ahead. Let’s hear what you have to say.”

“Shiz-”

“ **But start from the fucking beginning!** ” Shizuo’s growl effectively silenced Izaya who momentarily pushed back against the wall behind his back. “You showed up at my door with a scheme already planned out, is that it? You played nice to string me along, all the while planning to destroy me, am I right?” Izaya could feel his chest tightening on uncontrollable anxiety, his palms sweating as the space around him seemed to be getting smaller with every word Shizuo spoke. He tried to back off, but the wall behind him left little chance of escape. He even chanced a step forward, but that only brought him closer to a seething monster as Shizuo refused to move, and he was quick to fall back again. “So what was the plan, Izaya? **What was the plan?** ” Seeing as the other refused to answer, he went on, more irritated with every second that went by without a response from him. His mind did not register the other’s rising panic. As far as he was concerned, this was a fair stand-off; he wasn’t touching Izaya in any way, he wasn’t physically hurting him in any way, he was simply asking for answers he deserved. He was completely oblivious to the obvious physical menace his body represented leaning in against the other and essentially pinning him against the wall. “Easier to trap the idiot with fake caring and bring him to his knees afterwards, huh? What was it going to be? Ridiculing me? Nah, you’re too much of a _snake_ to be satisfied with just that, so what was it?”

“Shizuo, back off.” The urgency of escaping was what formed the words in Izaya’s mouth. The chills running up and down his back had escalated to a proper tremor and the panic was further manifesting itself as intense nausea. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep himself standing like that and, besides, he could hardly listen to the accusations directed at him for how loud the ringing in his ears had gotten. But Shizuo was just as lost, only in rage instead of panic.

 “What was it? Come on! It’s your own fucking game, **so play along**!” His breath was coming fast and hoarse, as if this had been a proper physical fight instead of the monologue it really was. He was angry and disappointed and sick of not getting any replies from Izaya. When he didn’t receive any replies this time either, he felt his patience slip. He slammed his fist on the wall, next to Izaya’s face, ignoring the way the other flinched, and brought his face close enough to feel each and every ragged exhale the other would leave against his skin. “What the fuck were you expecting? Teasing and taunting and pushing me all the time? Taunting the monster, calling me a beast, tempting me, challenging me to hurt you. Or was that your plan? A game to get me to show you just how monstrous I was?”

Izaya abandoned any semblance of control the moment he felt his scalp go ablaze, as if he was doused in ice-cold water and set to flames simultaneously. Unconsciousness was a short way from that point, he knew from previous experience. He brought a shaking hand up to press against the arm that was holding him caged and, in stark contrast with how fast his chest was rising and falling with every rushed breath, croaked “I can’t breathe.”

Shizuo only realized his mistake when he heard those words. Once he’d realized just how out of it Izaya was, it was easy to make the connection, to follow the other’s breakdown back to Shizuo’s own words and stance. His first reaction was to feel exasperated, but he immediately berated himself about being so rough and unthoughtful. He cursed under his breath and gritted his teeth before grabbing Izaya by the collar and dragging him to the kitchen, by the window, which he opened before backing away to lean against the counter and light a cigarette to drown some of the frustration he was feeling.

Izaya held on to the window sill as he tried to get his breathing back to even again. It wasn’t an easy task, but he was determined not to fall further apart in front of Shizuo, not again, and that was enough to keep him upright when his knees were shaking and his vision kept wavering. He heard the flick of a lighter and Shizuo’s first deep inhale of smoke not far from him. Shiki’s voice echoed inside his mind, _deliver him to me_ , and he almost chuckled. If Shiki had any idea how twisted their relationship was, he would know just how impossible it was for Izaya to execute his order, whether he actually wanted to or not. Shizuo had always been good at throwing Izaya’s plans out the window without any effort, without even being aware of their existence in most cases. This was no different. Whether he hated him or wanted him, whether he agreed to deliver him to Shiki or decided to fight the entire universe to have his way, Shizuo was simply going to stomp on every carefully devised plan of his without any consideration of the consequences. The thought made him smile at himself and mutter “How hopeless!”

“You owe me an explanation.” Whether Sizuo had heard him or not, whether he had assumed Izaya’s comment to refer to that particular situation, was unclear. But his voice sounded steady, even if his tone was hard, and Izaya felt safe to look at him. What he saw was cold resignation; apparently, Ikebukuro’s monster had already made the decision to give up making an effort. “You can fuck off and never come back here, but you owe me an explanation first.”

Izaya felt tired all of a sudden. The panic attacks always left him feeling spent, but this was a different kind of tiredness, a kind that he didn’t want to have to deal with at that moment. He didn’t want to have to talk about the past anymore, he was even willing to say just that, but his tone came out clearly dismissive as he spoke the other’s name (or more like the nickname he’d used as a tease since the day they’d met) and Shizuo refused to let him go on with that request.

“Spare me the bullshit, I don’t want to hear any more lies. I don’t even care what the original plan was - it’s done.” He took a deep inhale of smoke, to allow his temper to relax, to steady his voice before going on. “Just tell me this: why are you here now?” He didn’t like the change in Izaya’s look, the way it pleaded with him to stop this interrogation, so he kept speaking to fight back the ache in his chest. “If I know you at all, after everything that happened, you should be setting up a slow torturous death for me right now. You shouldn’t be able to be anywhere near me, unless you had that knife in my throat.” Izaya looked down at the knife still clenched in his fist and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. It took great effort to pull his fist from the window sill, cover the knife’s blade and put it back in his pocket, but Shizuo allowed him the time he needed to do so before speaking again. “But here you are. Is this a new scheme? An attempt to save your plan - whatever it was? Or is this really a plot to make me pay? Is my torturous death at the end of the road and I just can’t see it yet?” Still no reply, just Izaya’s gaze burning him with an unreadable intensity that only frustrated him further. “Dammit Izaya, why are you here?”

“I don’t know.” The reply came too fast and tasted uncomfortably honest on his tongue. He tried to twist it with a smirk, “You invited me”, but Shizuo just hissed at that, snapping the remainder of his cigarette in his fingers and throwing it in the sink. So he just repeated the truth. “I don’t know.” He watched Shizuo shake his head, obviously doubting him, and rushed to speak again, to avoid another verbal attack, or maybe an even scarier dismissal. “There _is_ a plan, there’s always a plan.” That wasn’t the exact truth and he shook his head in negation of his own statement. “No, there’s not _one_ plan, there’s many of them, too many to keep track. But I came here because you wanted me to come here and I wanted you to want me here.” Realizing just how incomprehensible it all sounded, Izaya laughed at himself. How pathetic, to not be able to follow his own train of thought. He wasn’t looking at Shizuo, but he could guess that the other was just as confused. “Coming here was not part of the plan. And not just tonight. I was never supposed to see you again, I should never _want_ to see you again after that night.” He ran his hands through his hair, thankful for the fact that Shizuo was allowing him the time to put his thoughts together, and chuckled humorlessly at the thought of how compromising what he was about to say was. But it was alright. It was even necessary within the context of the plot he was supposed to be executing, for Shiki and for himself, in order for him to preserve his status and maybe even his life. “It’s not easy” he swallowed thickly, forcing the words out of his mouth with no little effort “for me to want anything … to want anything for myself, I mean. It’s a very basic principle; you can’t want anything, unless you want to give people leverage against you. So I never wanted anything that I could call my own. Or anyone.”

“’s that why you’ve always had an army of mindless followers?” Shizuo practically spat the word and Izaya chuckled at the accusation.

“I have _used_ people, I have always wanted them to love me and worship me and look at me like I’m the whole world to them”, Shizuo’s grunt was full of contempt, but Izaya ignored it all the same, “but I have never wanted _them_. At least not for longer than it took me to uncover all their secrets and break them into pieces.” The curse that left Shizuo’s lips didn’t faze him, nobody’s judgement had ever had. “But you’re a different story, altogether. If anything, you’re the one dragging my secrets out into the light every single time. And I should keep away, everything tells me I ought to keep away from you, but in the end I don’t care if you’re all anyone needs to ruin me, I still want you.”

The few seconds of silence that followed felt incredibly long to Izaya, but eventually he heard Shizuo sigh. “Too many people have gotten hurt because of this. Someone’s dead, for christ’s sake! Can’t you stop trying to control everything and just act normal for once? Fuck, you got my family involved, Izaya!”

“Your brother didn’t even believe me.”

“Neither did Shinra!” Izaya’s fiery gaze turned to peer at him at that. “He had to come here and ask me to confirm your story, and if I’d denied it all, he would have believed me! Because that’s how fucking treacherous you are!”

It was nothing new, but it still hurt and Izaya hated that feeling. He looked away, not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him hurt, and took a deep breath to steady himself. “Fine.” His voice sounded so small, the same way it had sounded earlier in his office. “I’ll go.” It was defeat, and he hated it, but he didn’t have the strength to stand through another rejection, he’d heard enough as it was. But Shizuo was fast to prove him wrong.

“You don’t get it, do you?” And it was true, he didn’t, he couldn’t understand why the look in the other’s brown eyes spelled defeat as clearly as his did. “I don’t want you to go. I hate everything you are, but I don’t hate you. I don’t know how that works, but…” His voice trailed off and Izaya felt he could relate; he didn’t know how it worked either, he just knew he felt the same way. “Leave my family and my friends out of this. You can do whatever you like to me, I don’t care. Just don’t leave me. Fuck! I think I’d be happy with a slow and torturous death if only you could stand somewhere where I could see you!”

A punch would have been preferable; less hurtful. Izaya almost missed the days when the two of them would exchange nothing but threats and blows. He didn’t think he could remember ever receiving a blow in those days which had hurt as badly as Shizuo’s words just had. “You should be throwing me out, not offering me ammo like that.” He took a step away from the window, confirming that he could indeed stand without any external support, and span around on his heels. “I…” he wanted to be out of there, away, he wanted to not feel like the most despicable person on earth, weak and helpless and a total disappointment to anyone who ever cared about him. “This is never going to work.” He refused to look at Shizuo, the last thing he wanted was to see disappointment clear in the other’s eyes. “You should know better than to want me in your life.”

“Izaya -”

“You don’t want me in your life.”

“How about you let me make that decision?”

“I’m damaged goods, Shizu-chan!” He’d never admitted that out loud before, but it felt strangely accurate as it left his lips. “Just … broken, incapable of offering anything to anyone, cast aside and waiting for someone desperate enough to try and make a bargain out of something faulty and useless. Is that how you see yourself?”

Shizuo could imagine himself talking about Izaya like that, sometime in the past, when he still believed him to be nothing but pure evil. He didn’t doubt the truth of that statement, but he didn’t like it either. Just as he wouldn’t like anyone to speak that way of him, even if he knew for a fact that he was also damaged goods, perhaps even more so than Izaya. One thing he knew for sure, though, was that he didn’t want Izaya to leave, he didn’t want to live the rest of his life alone, wondering if this could have worked had he been someone else, had he been able to give Izaya everything he needed and wanted. “You’re good with words, I’ll give you that. I can’t bend and twist words to make them sound as important as the ones coming out of your mouth, but I’ll tell you this: I’m just as fucked up as you are; useless and flawed and damaged through and through.”

Izaya had almost made up his mind to leave, he was incapable of anything other than hurting Shizuo and, with the real threat of the Awakusu going after both of them, he wasn’t sure he wanted to keep trying. But the longing was still there, and Shizuo was asking him to stay and he didn’t know whether a lonely life was preferable to the threat of death. “Shizu-chan”, he spoke the other’s name as a plea, not sure whether he was pleading for a reason to stay or for the permission to leave.

“I know you have no reason to care, but I don’t think I can live without you anymore. Or maybe I just don’t want to, maybe I never did, I don’t know. I think …” he hesitated, but Izaya was still there, Izaya was really listening to him, it looked like he was truly hanging from his words and at that moment nothing was more important than persuading him to not leave. “It’s the only way to make sense of anything, the only way I can explain this mess, I think …” What was there to lose anyway? “I think I’ve been in love with you from the very first moment.” Izaya’s eyes went wide and Shizuo felt almost relieved as he went on: “I think I really am in -”

“Stop talking!” Izaya had raised his hand as if to bodily stop him and looked like a deer caught in the headlights. It wasn’t the same kind of panic that Shizuo had seen in his eyes minutes earlier, the one that left him weak and paralyzed; it looked more like his survival instincts had kicked in. He remained still for a few seconds, practically holding his breath as if this absolute stillness could save him from whatever grave danger Shizuo’s words had presented to him, and then breathed shakily, lowering his arm to the side and looking away tiredly. “You always make everything hard for me.”

Shizuo couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of that claim. It was Izaya who had always made it his life goal to make Shizuo’s life hard, not the other way around. He felt a wave of affection at Izaya’s uncalled for panic and took a couple of steps towards him without thinking. Even his voice held the unmistakable warmth of fondness along with a hint of condescension when he spoke up. “You’re a fighter, you don’t give up just because things are tough.”

Izaya had rarely heard anyone use that tone towards him. Shizuo’s eyes were soft, just as the curve of his mouth, and he caught himself craving to kiss those lips. A fighter. That wasn't exactly how he would describe himself. Perhaps Shiki understood him better than Shizuo did. But for all of Shiki’s fatherly understanding, Izaya had never felt the warmth he did next to his so-called enemy. And he craved for that warmth, he’d craved for it his entire life. And he was not prepared to give it up. He didn’t think he had the mental strength to smile, but it seemed that his lips didn’t need his mind’s approval. “Do you still want to wring my neck?”

The tragedy had been postponed once again and Shizuo chuckled contentedly. “Right now I just want to kiss you!”

“Go ahead.” It was not the answer Shizuo had expected, Izaya could see it clearly in the way the sound of it paralyzed him. So he took the remaining few steps between them himself, leaving no more than a few inches between their bodies and looked up to stare unveiled desire in the other’s eyes. It was enough to stir Shizuo into motion and he leaned in to tentatively brush his lips against Izaya’s inviting mouth, no more than a light touch, soft and not threatening in any way. It was all Izaya needed at that point, he wasn’t sure he could cope with anything more open and intimate, so he stepped back almost immediately, masking his apprehension with a playful smile. “So, are we ever having dinner?”

Shizuo was certain this could count as a mutual effort.


	42. Will you bite the hand that feeds you?

The trains to Shinjuku were always packed in the morning, more so than any other time of the day, with people commuting from other areas for work. Namie had never particularly minded the traffic; living in one of the most densely populated cities in the world had its ups and downs, like everything in life. She couldn’t say she appreciated squeezing into crammed trains and stations, rubbing shoulders with strangers before she had even had her first coffee for the day, listening in to mundane conversations between coworkers and students when all she wanted was some peace and quiet before she’d have to come face to face with her unbearable employer, but then she would never exchange the comforting anonymity of a busy metropolis for the oppressive familiarity of a small town either. Privacy was best achieved amongst strangers and it was only in this sense that she could agree with the saying ‘the more the merrier’.

She didn’t care for familiar faces. She loved the city, even if she despised it at the same time. The people surrounding her were pathetic little creatures, weak and unimportant. Their petty lives didn’t mean anything to her. Yet she was glad for them, she was glad for the background noise they created, for the veil they represented between her and the world, she appreciated how easily she could hide in plain view, just another mediocre human being, no one worth noticing.

She had the feeling that Izaya also loved the anonymity of the city. Even if he’d never consider himself part of the faceless crowd -of course not, Izaya Orihara was nothing less of a God- he probably appreciated the obscurity that crowds provided him and he undoubtedly took advantage of the way people often let their guard down when amongst so many strangers. It was funny, how people had the tendency to allow their vulnerability to show in the worst possible settings. Perhaps anonymity was nothing but a false safety net, after all; creating a false sense of privacy when in fact people were left bare in front of the eyes of hungry crowds ready to devour them. The thought didn’t bother her at all, she knew how to hide behind her skin, how to swallow up every hint of humanity in her, leaving nothing but an empty shell for prying eyes. Working for Izaya had been the perfect practice - not to say that she hadn’t mastered this skill long before she’d met him.

She could remember the very first time she’d come face to face with him. She had not liked him. There was something about Izaya that screamed danger to her. If anyone else had offered such an explanation as to the reasons for not liking someone, Namie would have felt unmitigated scorn for them; dangerous people were the only kind worth considering. She felt nothing but contempt for all those meek, proper humans, going through life on their tiptoes, as if scared of disturbing the real inhabitants of this world. Strength was not to be feared or scorned, it was to be celebrated. But, whatever the source of Izaya’s fearful aura, there was as much weakness in him as there was strength and Namie could sense it without a doubt, she could smell it the way a predator smells blood. Izaya was not a god, he was not even a predator, no matter how hard he pretended to be invincible Namie could smell the blood from old wounds, she could sense the cracks, she could envision the inevitable downfall and she did not care to stick around and watch. But, of course, life had a sick sense of humour.

She had been watching him closely through all this time that she’d been working for him. If things ever came to that, she knew a thing or two that she could use against him, there were even a few tidbits of information about him that she would gladly sell to any interested and well-paying party. Izaya’s obsession with Ikebukuro’s strongest was one of those tidbits. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but very few people knew exactly how misplaced the general understanding of their mutual _hatred_ was. Izaya’s obsession was dark, but it had always been more hopeful than hateful, it clearly stemmed from hurt rather than abhorrence; an open wound festering for years. She hadn’t expected Shiki to be the one to rub salt in that particular wound. For whatever reason, the yakuza executive had always seemed protective of Izaya and this kind of intrusive behavior seemed out of character. But more importantly, she hadn’t expected to feel so repulsed by such a personal attack against that unbearable creature.

She tried to focus on the sound of her heels against the pavement as she was making her way towards Izaya’s apartment office, willing her mind to push back any memory from the previous evening, any thought that was even remotely connected to Izaya’s well-being. Her efforts were proving widely unsuccessful. She had hardly slept the previous night, the adrenaline had kept her awake up to the small hours of the morning, mulling Izaya’s pathetic monologue and shaking with rage at all that she would have loved to throw at him but hadn’t. _It was not her responsibility_. She had repeated that short sentence to herself so many times since turning her back on him and walking away the previous evening, but she still couldn’t shake off that terrible feeling weighing down on her. She would never compare her love for her brother -a love pure and honest- to Izaya’s dark obsession with the brute, but she couldn’t deny that she knew how it felt not to be able to let go of something you can’t have - and shouldn’t want to begin with. Perhaps she simply didn’t like the fact that someone else had used that tactic to get him first. It was possible. Or maybe she was worried about having to find a new job and a new cover if the fool were to get himself killed - that seemed plausible, self-interest was a valid excuse.

She walked in the building and went straight for the elevator, pushing the button for the top floor far more aggressively than was necessary. If she could ask for one thing only that morning, she would ask for Izaya to not be in the office when she walked in a few seconds later. She didn’t want to have to deal with him, especially since she imagined that he’d still be up on his high horse, pretending to be above all, to have no ties to humanity, to be so untouchable that the mere thought of him actually suffering a dilemma was laughable. Her hopes were crushed when she turned the key; the door was not locked. She took a moment to steel herself for Izaya’s grating voice and childish tactics before turning the knob and entering the apartment.

She was greeted by the sound of rustling paper; a relatively comforting sound as opposed to the irritating pitch of the man’s usual greeting in the mornings. At least he was working, which had to be a good sign. Taking a deep breath and tossing her hair back, she took those few steps that separated her from the main space of the office bracing herself for another biting lecture that never came. Izaya was sitting on the floor, amidst a heap of files that looked like they had been thrown off the shelves right above in a frenzy, loose sheets of paper covering the floor all the way up to Izaya’s desk a few feet away, an empty coffee mug half-buried under all that chaos… The man himself was half-covered with files, grainy photographs and notepads filled with hasty scribbles, his complexion looking so pasty that Namie had no doubt he’d spent the night right there, on that spot on the floor, buried to the neck in whatever he was working on. He’d even carried the light from his desk by his side, the way it shown down on the files in front of him an unmistakable sign that he had indeed been working all night long. For a moment she thought that he might not have even heard her come in, that’s how immersed in his work he seemed to be, but before she could open her mouth to inquire about all that mess Izaya was already speaking in a monotone so uncharacteristic that she almost jumped at the sound.

“Pour me some fresh coffee.”

Good manners were never his thing, unless he was using them as way to mock her, and Namie would have normally ignored him and gone on to turn her computer on and put away her things before pouring some coffee for herself - possibly telling him to pour his own coffee in the process. But his flat tone caught her off-guard and she was digging up his mug and heading for the counter before she’d even realized what she was doing. She got the coffee machine running and chose a mug for herself, silently weighing the situation in her mind. Izaya was obsessive, but his obsessions were always laced with thrill and exuberance. This was different and different usually spelt trouble. She filled both cups with black steaming coffee and walked back towards him, choosing to leave her coffee and handbag on her desk first before taking the few remaining steps to the edge of the mountain of files on the floor. Izaya extended a hand to take the coffee mug without raising his gaze from what he was reading and spoke in the same monotone as before. “If I have any appointments for today, cancel them. And bring me every file we have on the Awakusu - previous assignments, personal files of members, groups or individuals with ties to them… everything.”

Shiki had indeed spoken of a new job the previous evening, but a job form the Awakusu wouldn’t cause such fluster. “There’s a few things I need to finish first-”

“This is an absolute priority.” She fell silent as he raised his gaze to her; he hadn’t slept at all, his bloodshot eyes were proof enough if Namie still needed proof. His tone carried a hint of exasperation which only fortified her unease - Namie knew that exasperation went hand in hand with despair. She wanted to tell him that whatever it was that he was doing, it was definitely not a priority for her. She didn’t care about this job, she didn’t care about him, so whatever force was driving him had no influence on her. But she did care about her paychecks, as well as about the front that this arrangement was providing her.

“And what exactly is _this_? What is it that we’re looking for?”

Izaya seemed to be appeased by her questioning. His gaze searched the pile in front of him for a second and then he sighed in resignation. “I’ll know when I find it.”

“How helpful!” she couldn’t push back the scorn in her voice. “I’ll get you your files and you can sit around and play all day while I do all the grown-up work once again.” She turned her back to head to her desk, but his voice stopped her before she’d made a single step.

“You’re not working on anything other than this until we’ve worked it out!”

She would have preferred a long, snobbish lecture after all. She didn’t care to babysit this big toddler of a boss she had, she didn’t care for riddles so early in the morning and, whatever the source of his desperation, she was _not_ moved by it. _She_ _did not care_. Her eyes burned form the lack of sleep and her thoughts were a sluggish mesh, she wanted this day to be over already and it was still early morning. She took a deep breath, shook her head in disapproval of what she was about to do and turned around to face him. Life next to Izaya was never supposed to be easy. He had the mug in his hands and the tremor in them was making the coffee slosh inside it. “What am I supposed to be looking for?”

He seemed to relax, took a sip of his coffee and let his eyes fall shut for a beat. “I need everything we have on the organization. These” he gestured to the pile of files in front of him “are the personal files of all the higher-ups, the history of succession… and everything we have on Shiki.”

“I see” and indeed, she did. This was not a job for the Awakusu. This was a tragedy starting to happen. “Are you trying to get us both killed?”

“No one is going to get killed.” His reply came a bit too fast and Namie didn’t miss the implication of that ‘no one’. But she’d known from the start not to take Izaya’s word on anything.

“And what is it exactly that we are looking for?”

He studied her for a moment, as if he was looking to find proof of the loyalty he knew not to expect of her, and held her gaze as he spoke the word: “Leverage.”

Leverage. She liked the sound of that word even if she didn’t like what Izaya was talking about. This situation presented her an opportunity that she was not going to let pass. Her self-assured smirk threw him off-balance but he stood his ground as she kneeled down in front of him, paying no heed to the sound of paper crumbling underneath her legs. “Fine, I will help you get your leverage. But I will require special payment for this job.” He opened his mouth -to protest by the looks of it- but she went on, leaning closer on all fours now just to invade his space. “When this is all done, when you’ve gotten your happy ending to this pathetic love story of yours, you’ll give me the head and you’ll find me a lab and offer me protection from Nebula. And I’ll never see your face again.” Lack of sleep had brought all of Izaya’s defenses down and she could see a mixture of feelings playing across his features; there was anger there, no doubt, but there was also panic and hurt. _It must feel bad to find yourself at the other end of all this manipulation and back-stabbing._ Her smirk did not falter, quite the opposite, it spread to a proper grin as calculation was added to the mix.

“I’ll give you the head, find you a lab, offer protection from Nebula… You have my word.” Izaya was agreeing to her terms with the intention of stabbing her in the back once he’d gotten what he wanted. But she knew him too well.

“Your word isn’t worth shit.” Now he was smirking back at her, seemingly unfazed by her reply. Exhaustion was rendering him slow, but he was still himself, Namie was glad to see. “But I’ll take it for now.” She leaned in even closer, bringing her face just inches from the self-complacent expression on the other’s face. “If you cross me, Izaya, I will make sure your lover boy finds out about every ugly thing you’ve done in your life. And we’ll see how much he loves you then.” His smirk faltered and she chuckled contentedly. Two could play this game. And the two of them were a perfect match in ruthlessness. “You will have fought the Awakusu for nothing.”

His smirk was completely snuffed out at that and Namie told herself that anguish looked good on his face. He swallowed thickly and blinked a couple of times as if to wake himself from a stupor, but she kept her expression unwavering. He was contemplating his options, she knew that much, but she didn’t need to rush, in fact, she could accomplish more by letting time weigh heavy on him; she’d learned a thing or two from her boss. His voice was hardly audible when he finally spoke up, but Namie was close enough to hear it crystal clear: “Fine.” She was close enough to smell the blood of an old wound, still gaping and oozing blood, left untreated for so long that it was no longer treatable.

*

By the time the knock on his door came, Shizuo had long abandoned the hope of spending yet another evening with his former archenemy. He’d liked how they’d left things the previous night, even if Izaya hadn’t stayed over as he had been hoping. Things had happened so fast between them from the start, that he was happy to take it slow this time around. He’d still spent the entire evening waiting for him; he’d cooked dinner enough for two people, he’d waited until his stomach was grumbling violently to finally allow himself to eat alone, he’d washed the dishes to make sure his kitchen was presentable, he’d kept the rest of the food warm until past midnight, just in case Izaya showed up, he’d even watched TV with the volume turned off, to make sure he’d hear that steady knock if it ever came. But to no avail. If it was any other night, he would have gone to bed by now, but, instead, he was still up, lazily going through the manual for his new shinny TV while reassuring himself that he was not staying up waiting for an annoying flea to pay him a visit.

The TV had arrived that morning and, thankfully, Shizuo had been too satisfied with his life at that point to punch the delivery guy through the wall for not understanding that there had to be a mistake, for he hadn’t bought anything. “It says here that it has been bought by a Kasuka Heiwajima who asked for it to be delivered to this address.” Buying him things he needed had always been Kasuka’s preferred way of showing affection to his brother. Shizuo had called him right after the guy had left, leaving a huge box behind which occupied half his living room, to thank him, but Kasuka had brushed it off the way he always did. The only thing he’d said before hanging up to return to whatever work obligation he had that day was “Look after yourself” and Shizuo had rejected the idea that this was just another warning with reference to Izaya.

It was past one when he heard the knock on his door, but he still mastered enough enthusiasm to jump from the couch and answer it with a hopeful smile on his face. Izaya looked as if he had fallen asleep standing on his feet, leaning tiredly against the doorframe. He looked up with bloodshot eyes and smiled back at Shizuo, breathing a quiet ‘hey’.

“What happened to you?” The worry was evident in his tone, but instead of mocking him Izaya just shut his eyes tiredly, huffed a breath and let his smile spread before replying.

“Long day.” When he opened his eyes again it was to search for something in the other’s expression - Shizuo had no idea what, nor did he bother hide his concern. “Is it OK if I come inside and fall asleep in your bed right away?”

Shizuo didn’t think there was anything he wanted to hear more than what Izaya had just said. It also turned out to be one of the very few honest things the other had ever told him. Shizuo moved aside as an invitation for him to step in and watched him kick his shoes off and walk straight to the bedroom without even bothering to take his coat off first. By the time he followed him in the room, Izaya was already lying in bed, fully clothed and half-asleep. Shizuo pulled his coat and belt off of him smiling at the unintelligible mumbling he received and turned the lights off before lying down and pulling him close. He could get used to Izaya sleeping next to him like that. He was even willing to believe that his brother’s concern was misplaced; he had nothing to fear from Izaya.


	43. Beggars can't be choosers

Izaya heard the door open and braced himself for the cruel jab that was sure to follow. He had been gone for too long, it was now well into the evening and even though he had been up almost all night the previous day digging into files and scribbling down everything that could potentially prove useful, Namie was sure to complain about being left alone to work on something she was not personally involved in and of which she did not approve. Her heels clicked on the rooftop floor, a harsh click clack on the untiled concrete surface that approached him without a hint of hesitation. As the sound grew nearer, he couldn’t help but wonder why she hadn’t spit it out yet; the insult at the tip of her tongue or the threat that if she had to spend another minute working on this alone while he was wasting time sitting on the roof and staring at the city beneath him, she’d drop Shiki a word and watch while Izaya’s miserable existence was finally snuffed out from this world. He had been with her long enough to know exactly what kind of poison she loved to feed him. Perhaps he had left her alone too long, managing to push her over the edge of her precarious sanity and she was now determined to push him over the edge in turn, only literally, to throw him to his untimely death so that she wouldn’t have to worry about risking her life for an ungrateful brat. Izaya almost snickered at the thought, but before he had the time to prepare himself for a deadly push by tipping his weight back and off the edge of the building he was hit at the back of his head by something conspicuously soft. His arm shot out by reflex, catching a fluffy scarlet scarf that he had forgotten he’d had before it could slip from his shoulders to the floor behind him.

“Aren’t you freezing up here?”

The click clack came to a halt just a bit to the right behind him and Namie’s voice hit him harder and colder than the night chill, indifferent as it was. His secretary knew how to make even a thoughtful move sound like a cruel reprimand. Izaya wrapped the scarf around his neck and urged the smile tugging at the corners of his lips to twist into a smirk before turning over his shoulder to meet her gaze. She wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were searching the horizon ahead, perhaps wondering what Izaya had been staring at for the past hour or so or maybe just purposefully avoiding his gaze. She was wrapped in a plush shawl herself, holding it tight against her body while strands of her hair were blowing in her face.

“Is my pretty secretary worried about me? How cute!”

She scrunched her nose in disgust and turned to look at him with the same stony expression she always had around him. “Why don’t you slip and die?” It was all Izaya could do to contain the wild grin on his face. Namie only turned even more vicious at the sight. “Do you know what happens to the human body when it falls from such a height? All of your bones would break to pieces, your skull would shatter and there’s a good chance the rupture of the abdominal cavity would leave your intestines hanging out. How about you take a leap and do us all a favor?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Not a very gruesome death, don’t you think? It sounds to me as if all the damage is internal and the body is left looking pretty much intact. Much better than a shot through the head which is probably how Shiki would get rid of me if we ever got to that.” Her contempt was instantly subdued, leaving nothing but an empty canvass. Izaya had the feeling that it was not a defense, but honest indifference. He had never dared hope that Namie cared about him, it was all just a game. When it became clear that she wasn’t going to comment, he turned back towards the expanse of the city ahead of him, pulling his knees against his chest and hugging them tightly with his arms. He hadn’t registered the chill before, his thoughts had kept him thoroughly preoccupied, but with the scarf around his neck and Namie’s presence beside him he had been forced to take awareness of the temperature of the light wind blowing around him. He was sitting on the rooftop ledge, his precious throne in this urban wilderness that was his kingdom. The view of the city from high above always relaxed him. Perhaps it would have been more sensible to spend this hour that he had wasted up here taking a nap in his warm bed; it would have helped clear his mind, it might have even made up for some of the sleep he’d missed the previous night. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep even if he tried. He would probably just waste an entire hour twisting and tossing, trying to get himself to relax enough to actually close his eyes and get his mind to stop reeling. Namie was keeping silent beside him, probably as tired and certainly as overworked as he was. He realized at that moment that she hadn’t come up there to tell him off for lounging around while she was working, but simply because she needed to stretch her legs and clear her mind, just like he did. The fact that she had sought him out for this made him feel lightheaded, so he pressed his palms flat against the concrete underneath him and let his legs dangle freely over the void, feeling the wind blow through his hair and carrying that feeling away with him. It took a few seconds for the familiar emptiness to take over and Izaya focused his thoughts on the progress they’d made in the last three days, to distract himself from the unpleasant illusion of an actual bond between him and the person he had been spending most of his time with for the past two years. He hated having to ask, but since she hadn’t offered the information herself he was left with little choice. “Found anything useful?”

Despite his put upon indifference, Namie could sense the tension in his posture and huffed annoyance before replying. “You have more than enough to negotiate”. But Izaya was shaking his head before she had even finished her sentence, pushing against the concrete under his palms with a stubbornness she was familiar with.

“I don’t want to negotiate.”

“Then what do you want? When will you be happy? When the Awakusu comes to lick at your hands for your mercy? Don’t you think you’re aiming a bit too high?”

The scorn on her voice was nothing new, but it still got a rise out of him. “I can’t threaten Shiki with trifles!”

“If you start a personal war, you’ll lose.” Not a threat or a taunt, but a matter-of-fact statement. He couldn’t really argue with that. What he could do was ignore the fact that he had been the one to start this witch-hunt and pretend that he had been dragged into it against his will, that he had no choice but to fight a losing battle, unless he wanted to surrender without even putting up a fight. But that’s what cowards do and Izaya was sick of being called a coward.

“It was Shiki who declared a war on me.” It sounded hollow, even to his own ears.

Namie allowed a moment of silence, staring hard at the street lights down below for if she looked at him she’d be tempted to strangle him with the scarf she’d brought him. When she finally spoke, she made sure to do so in a dismissive tone; she had no interest in dwelling on the complexes of the pitiful creature that was her boss. “I’m not surprised you’re too rotten to understand when someone is trying to help you” and before he could open his mouth and enrage her even further she went on casually “I’ve already missed lunch, I’m not missing dinner for you as well. I can cook something quick unless you’d rather get take-out.” Normally, he would have teased her about being such a good housewife or he would have taken the opportunity to insult her by suggesting take-out to avoid her “dreadful cooking”. Instead, she watched him bring his hands up to wrap the scarf tighter around his neck, keeping his hands fisted in the soft material while wondering out loud if it was dinner time already. She knew him too well to not understand he was planning something. “Or are you going to Ikebukuro again tonight?”

There was little love between the two of them, but they had been companions for some time, even if neither of them would ever admit it. They had been more of a family to each other than their real families had ever been and despite the lack of warm feelings between them, they were as close to a friend for each other as anyone had ever been. Izaya was very much aware of that. He knew that if he were to send her home now, Namie would spend the evening cooking alone in an empty apartment and eating dinner by herself in perfect silence. If he was a better person, he might even care. Instead, he turned to smirk at her. “Some of us have places to be and people to meet. It looks like you’ll be having dinner all alone again tonight!”

She shot him a savage look and turned to leave but had hardly taken two steps away from him before coming to a halt. Izaya watched her curiously over his shoulder as she pulled the shawl tight around her. It wasn’t that she cared, no, she simply wanted to have the last word, she didn’t want him to think he had defeated her, she wanted to spoil his evening and any happiness he imagined he had found in his life. “Are you sure he’s worth it?” she spoke the words without turning towards him “Are you sure he would do the same for you if it ever came to that?” Izaya had been asking the same questions in his mind non-stop for the past three days. Would Shizuo ever risk his life to protect him? Not caught in a blind rage, when he wasn’t thinking about the consequences of his actions, but with full awareness of what he was doing and, most importantly, for whom. He hadn’t come up with an answer yet. Shizuo had confessed having feelings for him twice by now and yet Izaya did not trust him to know how he truly felt. He had been people-watching for too long, he knew not to take people at their word, he was aware of how often humans fooled even themselves. Besides, he knew himself. Why would anyone ever love someone like him?

Some part of that thought must have been projected on his face because when Namie turned to look at him over her shoulder her nasty expression fell instantly. She had understood very early on that labeling Heiwajima as a monster was Izaya’s way of differentiating him from the rest of the world. Ikebukuro’s monster was not human, therefore he could not be treated the same as anyone else by Izaya, his hatred, indifference or betrayal could not be as easily dismissed as that of any other human being. Izaya had always craved his acceptance and it was obvious that he couldn’t fully comprehend the reasons for this himself. At some point the monster had allowed his once hated enemy in his home and in his life; an unquestionable sign of acceptance. It was no wonder that Izaya was willing to sacrifice everything to preserve that. Namie knew better than anyone for how little people were prepared to settle as long as they felt that they did not deserve and could not achieve anything better. They would claw on even the most miserable of existences, the most dysfunctional relationships, the most hated jobs, the most twisted situations if they didn’t see an alternative. She wasn’t going to argue that there would be other people to accept him and want him if this relationship failed. She didn’t care about him enough to lie. She straightened her shoulders and gave him a short nod and a simple “I’ll see you tomorrow” before walking away to leave him alone on his favorite spot above the city, watching over the humanity he vainly longed to be a part of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be Shizuo-Izaya.


End file.
